


The Ox and the Tiger

by valantha



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Arranged Marriage, Bechdel Test Pass, F/M, Food Porn, Forced pregnancy kinda, Pregnancy, Slow Build, Slow Burn, kinda but if you like arranged marriage fics you'll like this premise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 75
Words: 96,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2385287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valantha/pseuds/valantha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several generations after a world-ending event, Mai Qiaolian –- a skilled hunter from a small clan south of the Xunjiang River -– and Philip Coulson –- an agent sworn to humanity’s protection who lives on the magical Helicarrier –- meet, have a baby, and fall in love (in that order).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to xyber116 for beta'ing this and keeping my translation syntax fun to a reasonable -- and readable -- level.
> 
> Possible triggers for coerced artificial insemination.

Prologue:

Mai Qiaolian awoke in a small, bright cavern.

Her head throbbed as if she had overindulged in Weiyin’s _mijiu_ and her mouth was chalky –- bitter and dry. From her prone position she quickly, silently, surveyed her surroundings. She had been placed on a raised, overly-cushioned platform and dressed in a bizarre thin garment made out of neither fur nor leather. She could make out no other objects or people in the cavern and the painfully bright light seemed to come from both nowhere and everywhere.

After a long moment of consideration, she carefully eased herself off of the cushioned platform. It was not likely to cause any tactical disadvantage.

The floor of the cavern was furred beneath her feet and it vibrated with a distant thrum.

She placed her palm against the cavern side. Her hand was unfamiliar to her, her nails had been trimmed evenly and there wasn’t a trace of dirt or dried blood anywhere –- not beneath her fingernails nor along her cuticles.

The side of the cavern was smooth and neither cold like stone or godsbone nor warm like a beast. It too thrummed faintly.

_What was this place?_

Qiaolian paced the perimeter of the chamber. It was three paces wide and five paces long with unnatural squared sides and ceiling –- like nothing but godsbone. There were odd pale marking and protrusions around the cavern and one small metal bird perched high in a corner whose eye followed Qiaolian as she explored. She filed that piece of information away for later examination.

One section of the chamber wall gave beneath her hand, revealing another tiny square chamber and many many seasons worth of the odd thin garments in a multitude of floral colors. Qiaolian stroked one tunic the purple-blue hue of the first spring crocus. The unclassifiable material caught on her fingertips but was smooth against her forearm. She returned the garment and continued her exploration.

Qiaolian encountered yet another segment of movable chamber-wall, and this time found a white-scaled room. There was a white stone altar and two basins. One basin held water and she took one cautious palmful. The water was warm and faintly sour, but it was potable. She knelt to drink.

The scaled floor was cool through her thin trousers.

She drained the small basin –- and it made a burbling grumble –- and the throbbing of her head eased slightly.

The altar and the other -– larger -– basin were cool to the touch and their purposes unfathomable.

Qiaolian completed her circuit of the room and found no other hidden chambers or objects of interest.

She pulled the bedskins off of the too-soft platform and tucked herself in a corner directly under the metal bird.

The last thing she remembered was leaving the clan early and checking her rabbit snares. She had done pretty well for the late winter lean times –- two out of the first six snares had been successful –- and Qiaolian was looking forward to her mother’s rabbit stew.

Then the breeze shifted direction and Qiaolian smelled an odd burning smell.

Then she woke up _here_.

In this dream-cavern, this realm of gods or venerable ancestors.

Qiaolian hugged her knees and clutched the bedskins around herself. She had so many questions but it would be futile to do anything without further information. She need must bide her time to discover why she awoke in this odd cavern.

She was patient.

She may seem like a Rabbit, but she was truly a Tiger.

* * *

Chapter One:

Qiaolian’s patience did not need to be truly tested as less than a twelfthday after she hunkered down in the corner, a new segment of the cavern opened and two people entered.

The cavern sealed closed behind them.

There was a tall man; plumper and paler than any man she’d ever seen before, with eyes the color of the lake on a sunny day and a vast shiny forehead. There was also a girl, fairly tall, fairly pale, and fairly plump but not unusually so. Her long hair shone with hints of honey.

The man stood placidly while the girl’s eyes darted about the room, taking everything in.

Qiaolian did not move but to breathe. All eyes, all taut readiness.

The girl fingered her honey-kissed hair and bowed respectfully in Qiaolian’s direction. She mumbled something to the man and he bowed as well. His bow was too deep to be respectful, and utterly graceless. Had he captured her just to mock her? He was the one his power here; he stood with the calm, quiet strength of one whose authority was rarely checked.

Qiaolian remained motionless in her corner.

The man began to talk. His voice was a rumbly monotone and Qiaolian could not make out individual words let alone make sense of his meaning. He paused and the girl began to speak.

“Good day foreign woman, this man is _Phil Coulson_ ,” her dialect was quite strange –- archaic at times and rudely informal at others –- but not nearly as strange as the man’s language, and the name she gave him.

“I am Tian-li or _Skye_ , and we welcome you to The Flying-Clan-House or _Helicarrier_.”

The girl –- Tian-li –- nodded and the man resumed talking in his music-less language.

“I know you must have many questions. I have some couple answers,” the girl translated, “You have been taken hostage and will be returned to your homes once we have plundered the fruit from your womb.”

Qiaolian sprang up from her corner, teeth bared, fists ready. She didn’t know _what_ these creatures were or if teeth and claws would even make a dent, but there was no way she’d let them take her future children.

The girl froze and shrank back at Qiaolian’s reaction and the placid man straightened. He slowly raised his hands in an attempt to placate her and murmured to the girl.

Their voices washed over each other and Qiaolian couldn’t make heads or tails from their conversation. Their body language was a bit more forthcoming: The man did not expect this violent reaction and blamed the girl. The girl was staunchly unapologetic and interestingly unafraid of talking back to the man.

Qiaolian relaxed her stance minutely as they argued.

“This man is sorry,” the girl translated, “He wishes to start over, Miss…”

Qiaolian put down her fists. In the realm of gods, odd man-like creatures, or venerable ancestors, fists would likely do her no good.

“Mai Qiaolian,” she answered.

“Phil Coulson,” the man said and bowed.

Qiaolian bowed back.

“May Chow-lin?” he butchered.

Qiaolian nodded, face set.

“May Chow-lin,” he began.

“This man is sorry. His people are sick and cannot have childs of their own so they must take yours,” the girl translated.

“This man was picked to give you the best babies but you can pick another. You can have the babies and leave – he can be mother and father to them. Or you can stay and be mother alone. You must give his people two babies and then you can go home. You will have much food and warm clothes. You will not be hurt.”

“And if I say no?” Qiaolian asked.

Upon Tian-li's translation, the man began to look ill-at-ease, a feeling he must only infrequently feel. After a round of translation he said, “Then the healers will put his essence in you, give you babies and take them from you once they are born. You will not see them again. You will stay in this chamber until you give him two babies. You will have much food and warm clothes. You will not be hurt. You will be bored.”

Qiaolian stood motionless.

“You will be ripe in ten days' time. You have that time to decide. Skye, me will show you around your _room_. Do not hurt her, me,” Tian-li translated.

The man stood by, calmly watching –- like a bull chewing its cud, tail flagged warningly; like a boulder perched precariously over a village, somehow standing guard –- while Tian-li darted around the cavern pointing out various things.

There was an smaller opening within the opening they entered, where food would appear three times a day. There was a stick near the opening Qiaolian could push to turn the light off. There was a magic pond on a wall that could be used to watch things happening far, far away.

Tian-li pointed out the clothes-chamber Qiaolian has already discovered. Tian-li expected her to change garments every day!

The white-scaled room was a _bathroom_ and the basin she had drunk from was for defecating and ‘weeing’ into with a metal stick to pull to get rid of the waste. The metal stick on the altar could be used to summon hot or cold water –- this is what she was supposed to drink. The large basin was for bathing –- with a similar metal summoning-wand -– and she was expected to bathe every day, even if she was not dirty.

Tian-li asked if she had any questions and shook her head. She had too many to ask.

The ox-like man stroked a segment of the cavern, it opened for him, and then he and the sparrow-like girl left. The cavern closed behind them. 

Qiaolian waited a beat and then tried stroking the same spot, to no avail.


	2. Chapter 2

Qiaolian sat on the furred floor and curled her body into the Qigong position _Hold up the Heavens_.

She breathed in for the count of six, held her breath for the count of six, and then released her breath slowly over the count of six.

In. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Hold. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu_. Out. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu_.

She sought to center herself in this thrumming, alien world.

She sought strength.

In. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Hold. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu_. Out. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu_.

She sought to find peace.

She sought advice from her venerable ancestors.

In. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Hold. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu_. Out. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu_.

Time passed.

Meals came. Meals left. Disregarded.

The overhead lights dimmed and then brightened.

She dozed sitting up.

She did not find peace or advice per se, but the thrumming of the cavern and the complaints of her body grew more distant. Her fear grew more distant.

Her ancestors did not feel she was worthy of their advice -– yet. She was patient.

More meals –- different meals –- came and left. Ignored.

On what Qiaolian supposed was the third day of her captivity –- as she was just beginning to reach that crystalline state of communion –- the ox-like man and his bird-like translator returned.

The ox-like man looked quite distressed and the first words out of his translator’s mouth were, “You must stop this food-fight at once!”

Qiaolian was confused and unfurled her legs. They complained with prickle-stabs from their long immobility. Their complaints were duly ignored.

“You must eat. Not eating will not help you,” Tian-li translated the man’s commanding words if not his tone.

“If you wish for another fathers, that can happen,” Tian-li did not translate the man’s oddly pleading tone.

“But this child-like insolence must stop or we will be forced to magic food into your blood-river.”

Qiaolian was still confused. She had gone far more than three days without food before, and who were these creatures to be so concerned? And how could they put food directly into her bloodstream?

Qiaolian levered herself to her feet and the bird-like girl took two steps back, surprised. The ox-like man -– _Philip Coulson_  -– was not surprised by her rapid movement, or at least was well controlled enough to not show it.

“Why?” Qiaolian asked the girl, not concealing her minute examination of _Philip Coulson._

The two mumbled between themselves in their ear-aching language before the girl responded with “Why what?”

Why what indeed. Why everything?

“Why me? Why am I here? Why does he want my babies? Why him? Why does he care if I eat? Why is this happening?! Why aren’t my ancestors talking to me? Why…”

Qiaolian stopped herself. She **hated** being in situations where neither fight nor flee were the correct answer, and she vastly preferred to fight. She hated accompanying diplomatic trading missions or multi-clan hunts. Smiling hurt her face. 

She just didn’t like dealing with people.

As Qiaolian despaired –- or as much as she was able to with her generally phlegmatic temperament –- Tian-li translated her words rapidly.

After a pause, _Philip Coulson_ took a few steps towards her, but stopped as she tensed.

“Those are hard question to answer,” Philip said –- via Tian-li –- looking straight at Qiaolian.

“We live high in the sky –- in an air-boat -– but this makes our women sick and can’t have babies. They picked you because you were alone… strong, healthy, with good… ancestors.” Philip’s words flowed smoothly; Tian-li’s translation was choppier. Qiaolian wished they could communicate directly.

“I would be sorry, but is the…leopard sorry for the lamb? No. The leopard just makes sure to kill the lamb cleanly before eating it. Thus is it with us. We cannot… have sorrow, but we must makes sure we get our childs without making more suffering. That is why I care.”

“I may look foreign, but my ancestors were strong and smart, and my childs will be strong and smart,” Philip pleaded.

“We need not even touch. The medicine-people will take my essence and put it in a pod. They will _inject_ the pod into you and maybe a baby will form.”

Without advice from her ancestors –- who knew if their voices could even **reach** the sky-boat, so far from the resting place of their bones –- Qiaolian needed to make her own choice. And her choices seemed limited to serving as broodmare –- her tribe didn’t have horses, but a tribe to the north did -– for this alien man or for another. Philip looked quite unappealing with his shiny forehead, and plump, pale frame, but his voice was nice –- mumbly language notwithstanding -– and his studied tranquility bode well for his abilities as a father.

Qiaolian nodded, “In a seven-day, your medical people can try.”

“With my essence?” Philip asked.

Qiaolian nodded.

“And you’ll eat?” he asked

Qiaolian nodded.

His calm vanished as he -– literally –- hopped once with glee. Perhaps he wasn't as calm as she supposed. He shooed Tian-li out with a murmur, and when she returned with a bowl of rice and curry, he grabbed it from her.

Philip bowed and gave the bowl to Qiaolian with a butchered, “May Chow-lin?”

He held himself like this was an important ceremony -– like the gesture was some sort of promise, or a treaty.

Qiaolian took the bowl and returned the bow, “Phil-ip Cour-son.”

He stood there –- waiting –- until she spooned a handful out and into her mouth. The curry had an oddly sweet tasty to it, and was rich against her tongue, but her stomach was pleased.

His offering accepted, Philip left with a grin and another juvenile skip. Even Tian-li thought his behavior was humorous and shared a smirk with Qiaolian -– or rather she smirked and attempted to share her humor with Qiaolian. Qiaolian held her face impassive, but she might not have been able to stop her eyes from twinkling slightly with amusement.

* * *

Qiaolian ate some of the sweet curry -- her stomach filled rapidly -- and decided to play by their odd rules, for now.

She pushed, pulled, and prodded sticks, levers, and “buttons” in the _bathroom_ until the large basin filled with water.

She crouched in the warm water basin unable to completely banish the foolish feeling that she was the metaphorical frog in the story and she would soon be turned into soup.

She washed with the slimy _soap_ Tian-li had pointed out in her whirlwind tour of the cavern and dried herself with a special garment before changing into yet another set of clothes.

Her stomach satisfied and her body clean, Qiaolian realized she was tired. She hadn’t gotten any quality sleep since she arrived here, in this sky-boat, so that was the next order of business.

The raised platform was far too strange -– _and_ the metal bird had a clear line-of-sight on it, so Qiaolian returned to the corner where she had previously deposited the bedskins and curled up.

Her mind raced over the events of the past few days and what terrors the future might hold. She breathed deeply and accepted her fears, acknowledging them without dismissing them and refocused on her breathing, counting each renewing inhale, each calming breath-hold, each cleansing exhale.

In. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Hold. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu_. Out. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu_.

Her mind was as smooth as the lake on a windless day.

The foreign sounds of the sky-boat stirred the waters. There was a wind-rushing-through-a-cavern _wooooosh_ , a faint yet constant _shuush shuush_ , and resonant _tlucks_ at random intervals. She missed the chirps and whistles of birds, frogs, and insects, the rustle of leaves and grass, and the soft homey sounds of other people sleeping nearby.

In. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Hold. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu_. Out. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu_.

Calm was achieved. Qiaolian repositioned the bedskins and closed her eyes again.

The thrumming of the sky-boat –- flying? –- through the air rocked Qiaolian to that semi-aware half-awake state. Her mind fixated on attempting to classify the barely perceivable and completely unbelievable supposed motion of the reputed sky-boat/Clan-House.

As she finally slid into slumber, she dreamt of riding one of a flock of giant cranes pulling a turtle with a village on its shell. _She_ was directing the crane, and her crane was guiding the whole village. Her stomach was round with child.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for coerced artificial insemination.

The next seven-day passed slowly. Very slowly.

Qiaolian made sure to eat every meal –- no matter how oddly-tasting or -textured it was. She changed her garments daily and bathed regularly. She played by their bizarre rules.

She paced her _room_ and had staring contests with the magic metal bird in the corner –- it always won.

She flowed through her Qigong exercises so many times even they became boring. Even they lost their soothing power and became mere rote motions.

She attempted to get the magic pond on the wall to show her home, but got nothing but people shouting at one another in Philip’s odd language.

In short she was bored out of her skull by ‘playing by the rules’. There was nothing to do. Nothing to hunt, nothing to track, not even anything to mend!

She paced her room and poked and prodded every protuberance and spot of the walls. She was trapped and oh so outmatched. 

She removed her garments from the garment-chamber and clambered up the ledges to observe the room from a different vantage point. Shortly thereafter Tian-li entered and asked her not to do that again. The magic metal bird must have tattled on her.

Nor was that the only time Tian-li visited her. As bored as Qiaolian was, she couldn’t bring herself to look forward to these visits. Tian-li was such an odd little sparrow, and her manners were simply atrocious!

* * *

But no matter how slowly the seven-day passed, pass it did. Until it was the day Qiaolian was supposedly ‘ripe’.

She woke restless and agitated, but unable to pin down quite why she was so agitated. It wasn’t _only_ because some sky-medicine-people were going to put a baby inside her…

Qiaolian bathed and donned the crocus purple-blue tunic she had found the first day with some matching trousers and then began flowing through her Qigong exercises in a meticulous manner -– for that was the only way she could still lose herself in them.

Midway through a Soaring Crane exercise there was a rap on the chamber wall. It had taken quite a bit of silent (threatening) staring, but Qiaolian had made Tian-li promise to knock before entering.

Qiaolian completed the exercise. She had little-to-no control over her life now; the least she could do was force them to wait a few fractions of a twelfthday for her.

Once the exercise reached its natural conclusion, she found Tian-li, Philip, and two other men watching her. One man had an openly-appreciative glint in his eye. He was also tall, slender, and most-interestingly, the color of deep, rich soil.

Qiaolian restrained herself from testing out her death-glare. Who was this man to ogle her so? He was not to be the father of her children.

The other man was almost as pale as Philip and big -– not plump, just _big_ –- with broad shoulders and short fur on his face.

Philip bowed to her (he was getting better at it, still far too low to be anything but mocking, but getting a bit more graceful) and began, “May Chow-lin…”

“… will you please come with us now to see the medical people?” Tian-li translated.

Qiaolian nodded her acquiescence.

Philip stroked the chamber open and the big man was the first through the entrance.

When Qiaolian exited her chamber, she entered small, cold-grey chamber. It was fully-enclosed. Her guards and the others almost completely filled the small chamber and the entrance to her room was closed before Philip stroked yet another patch of wall to open another entrance.

It would not be easy to escape, but still Qiaolian squirreled the information away. For later scrutiny.

After the ‘quarantine-room,’ the party of five entered a long, dark, narrow chamber. It was a cold grey with yellow light-boxes on the celling and small square protuberances with a circular thingy on the walls at regular intervals and completely uniform in both directions. Qiaolian scanned the chamber, counting the protuberances she could see. Assuming each led to a living-chamber Qiaolian’s mind fizzled. She could see more living-chambers from right here than there were people in her whole clan –- counting the children and the elders!

“This way,” Tian-li translated. Philip gestured in one direction along the very, very long chamber. Qiaolian and her honor guard followed Philip. The chamber ended at an intersection of another long, narrow chamber, and to another and another.

Qiaolian became both claustrophobic and agoraphobic thinking of all of the people crammed into this flying Clan-House. _This must be what living in an ant-hive is like_. But there were no other people present. All of these chambers, but no people present. Why?

As the group wound their way through the maze-like web of ‘hallways’ Qiaolian found herself inching closer to Philip. He was an alien stranger, but he was less alien and less strange than this empty metal ant-hive and the foreignness the closed chambers must hold.

After an indeterminable number of turns, ‘hallways’, and closed chambers, Philip opened another chamber, this time by pressing his thumb against the circular thingy on the small square protuberance. The circle flashed green and then the wall opened directly into a large, white room with distinct bright lights.

In the center of the room stood a young woman. She was so pale. She had skin the color of the moon, with cherry blossom lips, and hair even more honey-kissed than Tian-li’s. She was wearing a large white over-garment and true black garments and bowed politely in Qiaolian’s direction.

“May Qiao-lin,” she began.

“I am _Doctor Simmons_ , and I will be helping you today,” Tian-li translated as the woman gestured to a side-chamber.

The young woman moved like a crane –- not a soaring crane, but a wadding crane –- jerky and all elbows, but with hidden, perhaps untapped, grace.

Thankfully the two strange men stayed outside the chamber leaving only Tian-li and Philip as an audience as the _Doctor Simmons_ examined Qiaolian. Philip attempted to meld with the walls for most of the examination.

The woman babbled like a brook and Tian-li only saw fit to translate a few of the woman’s warnings and commands, that or she couldn’t keep pace with her babbling either.

After being commanded up onto a crunchy table; arm squeezed tight by a scary-sounding machine; finger squeezed by a glowy-red thing, then poked until she bled; forced to breathe ‘deeply’ with a cold metal thing on her back; ears, nose, mouth and eyes examined with a bright hand-light; Doctor Simmons -– through Tian-li of course –- asked her to change into an ill-fitting garment to get ready for _The Procedure_.

Everyone left the room as Qiaolian followed her command. The garment was an extra-wide, extra-long tunic of sorts with odd (cold) fastenings on the back.

Once she was re-attired, Qiaolian called to Tian-li, her stomach a rapidly growing pit of wriggling snakes. Time to get this _Procedure_ over with.

Tian-li and Doctor Simmons returned and the medical woman fiddled with the raised and crunchy platform the first part of the torment had occurred on before gesturing Qiaolian to climb up on in again.

Through a combination of translated commands –- and soft yet unyielding tugs –- Doctor Simmons had Qiaolian repositioned on the platform such that her feet were perched on little branches and her legs were spread indecently wide. Doctor Simmons repositioned Qiaolian’s tunic to cover her spread legs before asking if she wanted Coulson in the room or not.

Without considering, Qiaolian nodded, surprising herself sightly.

Philip entered the chamber and smiled broadly at Qiaolian. His smile (and his eyes) told the tale of hearty encouragement almost-completely masking discomfort and/or guilt with just the faintest hint of hope and longing. She might not speak his foreign language, but she was learning to read his subtle facial expressions. It probably helped that his expressions were quite similar to Weiyin’s husband, the man who fostered her love of Qigong, though his face couldn't be more dissimilar.

He proffered her his hand, neither expectation nor demand in his gesture. Qiaolian surprised herself by accepting and was surprised a third time by the immediate comfort it brought. Somehow it made her feel less alone in this bizarre nightmare. Like he was with her in this craziness instead of being the one inflicting it, which was simply absurd.

She squirreled this revelation away for later examination. She now had quite a stockpile of observations.

Doctor Simmons returned –- not that Qiaolian had actually noticed she had left –- and with her, Qiaolian's snakes. For -- in her now purple hands -- she was carrying some sort of clear tube or pod. Without a doubt, it contained Philip's essence.

Doctor Simmons began speaking slowly and clearly -- for Tian-li's benefit.

“This _syringe_ contains Coulson's cleaned and sorted essence. I will slide this up and into your _cervix_ then I will empty it out into you. Then you must stay still for a half-hour. **You must not sneeze**.”

Doctor Simmons waited until that was translated before half-giggling/half-snorting and saying, "Sorry, a little joke, but you _should_ stay still.”

She stood between Qiaolian's legs and -– though it was obscured by the tunic -– she inserted the syringe into her. It tugged slightly on Qiaolian's delicate (and dry) parts, but it was only mildly uncomfortable and slightly ‘full’ feeling. It probably _was_ best not to sneeze. A cool sensation spread out from her center and Doctor Simmons resumed talking.

“One out of seven times, a baby will be made. We will check your blood in two seven-days to see if it worked. We will try this 6 times and if there is no baby by then, other measures will be taken. Do you have any questions?”

Qiaolian shook her head.

She was still full down there and just noticed that she had been squeezing Philip’s hand rather tightly. She dropped his hand quickly –- like it was made of something foul.

He smiled kindly -– and all too knowingly. He could be rather disconcerting. 

Doctor Simmons nodded -- in response to Qiaolian’s lack of questions, not the unnoticed by-play between Qiaolian and Philip -- and after a short while pulled the _syringe_ out, commanding Qiaolian to remain still for the next half-hour before bustling out of the chamber.

Tian-li and Philip remained.

Self-consciously, Philip asked her about her seven-day and (slowly, through Tian-li) she told him about her boredom, Qigong, and how the magic pond only ever showed oddly-dressed people shouting at one another in Philip’s language.

Philip hmmmed sympathetically about her boredom, looked politely interested by her Qigong, and told her that he’d get Tian-li to ‘put on’ a ‘channel’ about animals.

Qiaolian replied that it would be nice to see animals in the magic pond. She didn’t say that the sterility of the sky-boat made her neck itch.

Surprisingly, the half-hour passed quickly and Doctor Simmons returned with some towels for Qiaolian to clean herself up with. Everyone stepped outside the small chamber while Qiaolian cleaned herself up and changed back into her crocus purple-blue garments.

Off-handedly, she wondered if it might be easier to escape from the medical place than from her rooms.

The two other men were still there when Qiaolian was ready, and the door needed Philip’s magic thumb to open. Perhaps it wouldn’t be that simple.

Qiaolian was only slightly less intimidated by the ant-hive nature of the sky-boat during their return trip, though this time she actually saw people in the hallways.

She was actually relieved to be returned to the known and defined nature of her chamber and bowed goodbye to Philip and the others before sinking into her _bed_ , placing cautious, curious hands over her womb.


	4. Chapter 4

The next two seven-days passed almost as painfully as the previous 10 days, but it wasn’t _quite_ as bad. Qiaolian didn’t know if it was because she was becoming inured to the dullness of life in her chamber on the ant-hive-like sky-boat or something else.

Qiaolian knew that the metal bird was always watching, so she continued to play by the rules –- her intimidating sojourn through the dark metal maze convinced her that these sky-people were formidable opponents (not that their powers were unnoticed prior) and that much preparation and further knowledge was needed for an escape attempt to be anything more than a pitiable exercise in futility.

Qiaolian learned which sky-foods were odd but palatable and which ones were just plain odd. This morning there was a sweet-and-fruity hot mush that she quite enjoyed, despite the foreign nature of the grain base.

Tian-li continued to make frequent but random visits. Not only did Tian-li show her how to see animals on the magic pond, but also how to see rotating ‘soothing’ landscapes -– beaches, streams, and waterfalls. She also attempted to inculcate Qiaolian in the sky-people culture. During one of these spur-of-the-moment lessons, Qiaolian learned that the sky-people put their personal name in front of their family name. This was how she learned she’d been thinking about Philip Coulson by his personal name!

She was quite embarrassed by this impropriety. Additionally, she was embarrassed by proxy by Tian-li’s shockingly indecorous use of ‘Mai’ and ‘Phil’.

_She was an impertinent little sparrow._

Coulson made no appearances during the two seven-day waiting period to see if the _artificial insemination_ took. Qiaolian didn’t really know how she felt about that –- either way, really. She didn’t know if she felt relieved that he wasn’t bothering her or annoyed that he wasn’t seeing how she was doing. She still hadn’t figured out how she felt about this whole pregnant by _syringe_ thing, or even just the pregnancy thing alone.

In her clan she had been well respected as a hunter and tracker, but few men looked upon her with anything but respect and perhaps a bit of trepidation –- she **was** the one who tracked and killed a child-killing tiger and then refused to accept the clan’s congratulations.

And Qiaolian rather liked it that way. She valued her independence. She enjoyed leaving early to tend her trap-lines and the ability to go on a week-long hunting trip without having anything but a mild concern for her mother dampen her fun.

But now she was in this flying Clan House and she’d not be able to return to her clan and mother until she had given this Coulson two children.

She wanted it to be over, but she also didn’t want it to start.

* * *

Well, 14 days –- with as many bathings and garment-changings, 42 odd meals, and 5 ‘informative’ visits by Tian-li –- passed. Coulson –- curiously bruised and limping –- two different muscle men, and Skye arrived early. Qiaolian was not doing Qigong, but instead watching a ‘show’ about a family of large cats. They were not solidary like tigers or leopards but lived in family groups of multiple females, one male, and their cubs. Currently one female was stalking up to a deer-like creature; the landscape around them was rather sere and yellow. There was talking that might have explained more of this, but Qiaolian was enthralled by the drama of these cats and their prey. She didn’t want to turn away from the action, but was more loathe to admit that she cared about the cats in the magic pond so she turned it off promptly upon Coulson's arrival. 

Her ‘honor guard’ entered and guided her to the medical bay, like the first time. This time it was mildly less intimating and Qiaolian began to memorize the turns and junctions.

The crane-like _Doctor_ was standing in the middle of the medical bay, like the first time. She poked and prodded, babbled and giggle-snorted, like the first time. Coulson and Tian-li stood by uncomfortably, like the first time.

This time, after _the standard check-up_ , instead of adjusting the crunchy platform, she gestured Qiaolian into a chair.

Doctor Simmons pulled out several items and pulled stretchy purple hand-garments onto her hands. She asked Qiaolian to stretch out her arm and make a fist before tying a stretchy rope-thing around her upper arm. She tapped her odd-feeling purple fingers against Qiaolian’s inner arm before wiping it with a cold square cloth. Doctor Simmons grabbed a syringe with a _needle_ and warned -– via Tian-li –- “I will poke you now,” and inserted the _needle_ into her arm.

There was a small pain and then a subtle soreness and then Doctor Simmons released the stretchy rope-thing. Qiaolian felt a sick fascination, watching her life’s blood fill a small clear tube. Quite quickly it was full and Doctor Simmons pulled the _needle_ out and pressed and white square cloth onto the teeny-tiny wound. She mixed the blood-tube and commanded over her shoulder, “press that down,” as she left the room.

Qiaolian didn’t know what to do –- besides firmly pressing the cloth down on her arm –- but she was oddly gratified that she was not the only one at a loss. Coulson and Tian-li both looked confused by Doctor Simmons’ abrupt departure, and they didn’t even have the make-work of holding down a bit of cloth.

Time passed and Coulson and Tian-li grew restless. Qiaolian focused on applying even pressure.

Time passed and Tian-li made an inappropriate joke (based on Coulson’s reaction).

Perhaps a full twelfthday passed before Doctor Simmons bustled back into the side chamber and told them there was no baby.

Qiaolian knew the result before Tian-li translated her words from reading Coulson’s face. A briefest grimace of disappointment distorted his rainbow-bruised face, but it was swiftly masked by a completely neutral façade.

Qiaolian nodded at Tian-li’s translation but did not truly know how she felt. She ignored her mother’s training and squashed the uneasiness and uncertainly down without examination, drawing a pond-like calm over her turbulent emotions.

Doctor Simmons rapidly explained, “There is no cause for concern; no, no cause for concern whatsoever, these things take time sometimes. It’s very un-happening for it to happen the first time. I will see you in about two seven-days to try again.”

As they left the medical bay, oblivious honor guard included, only Tian-li looked disappointed by the results; only Tian-li let her true face show.

Qiaolian had the presence of mind to study the return path, and she could have sworn to her ancestors that the maze’s twists and turns had changed, or at the very very least Coulson was leading them a different way.

Once Qiaolian was deposited back in her room she continued to refuse to analyze her feelings about the failure of the _artificial insemination_ , but instead returned to the magic pond and escaped into the world of the large not-tigers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a testing of mettle and a turning point.

Qiaolian continued to follow the rules as the time-river followed more swiftly. The bathing, changing, and three large meals a day almost began to feel commonplace, normal. She continued to do her Qigong exercises -– devoting the time between waking and eating the first meal of the day to flowing through her exercises, maintaining control over her self and her mind to the best of her abilities. She wished she knew more exercises. She wished she knew new ways to tap and control her Qi. Perhaps that way she'd feel more in control, and there was nothing Qiaolian missed more than control.

Between the Qigong, the eating, and the bathing, Qiaolian had vast acres of unused time. Instead of using this time in the uncomfortable pursuit of sorting out her changing and chaotic feelings or the futile pursuit of plotting an escape, Qiaolian spent _so_ much time watching the magic pond.

So much time.

Whenever she began to feel trapped, or idle, or frustrated, she would turn on the magic pond and lose herself in the action or soothing predictability displayed there. Predators hunted prey and sometimes succeeded. Prey avoided predators and sometimes failed. Cubs and calves were born and sometimes died and seasons changed.

Qiaolian, Tian-li, Coulson, and two new guards went to the medical bay for the third time. Qiaolian became certain that Coulson was taking a new confusing path each time. **_At least he wasn’t stupid…_**

Everything was the same as the first two trips except Doctor Simmons commented on Qiaolian’s weight gain. The three meals a day and the lack of hunting, tracking, or pretty much any exertion whatsoever, had led to an overall softening of Qiaolian. She could no longer count all of her ribs or see both wrist knobblies. And her mind lacked the finely honed sharpness that only came from living on the edge. Doctor Simmons was pleased and mentioned that it was good for baby-making. Or at least that’s how Tian-li translated it. Qiaolian couldn’t really see the awkward crane of a doctor saying that phrase precisely.

She did however store that bit of information away. Her grandmother would feel vindicated -– _if_ she ever found out. She had always harped on how slender Qiaolian was and how if she wanted to catch the eye of a man and have healthy babies she’d need to eat more _and_ ‘run about’ less. Qiaolian however had managed to catch the eye of the all-seeing sky-people without the extra weight, so she could only give her father’s mother _some_ credit.

* * *

After the second round of _artificial insemination,_ the time-river continued to flow. Qiaolian continued to be alternatingly bored, restless, trapped, faux-calm, and lethargic.

One morning -– time being a relative thing dictated by the lights and meals as Qiaolian hadn’t actually seen the sun in almost two moons –- after a particularly unsuccessful round of Qigong exercises, something inside Qiaolian snapped, releasing all of the anxiety, frustration, and helplessness she had bottled up inside.

The mocking, tattling, magic metal bird was watching her. As it had been every moment of every day since she woke up in this _place,_  this flying ant-hive of incomprehensible magic. She just couldn’t. **Not anymore.**

She moved the _table and chair_  -– a recent addition brought by Tian-li, a piece of furniture exclusively for proper meal eating -– underneath the magic bird. She climbed upon the dark metal platform and began bludgeoning the metal bird with the flat plane of the top of the _chair_. After the first swing, its eye began blinking red, and it took several strong swings to dislodge it from its perch. The crow-sized thing stopped blinking once it was finally dislodged.

As Qiaolian looked at slightly-mangled wingless _thing_ , her feelings of lack of control, frustration, and suppressed fear boiled over.

_What would these sky-people do to her now that she had snapped, had stopped playing by their rules and being a meek little Rabbit? How could she have lost control over herself like that?_

Qiaolian left the corpse of the spy-bird on the table and stood in the center of the room. Even a Tiger knew when they were outmatched. She channeled the strength of the Mountain, standing calmly in the center of the room, to face the consequences of her unplanned actions.

In. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Hold. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Out. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._

Thankfully she did not need to stay in a state of suspense for long. Coulson –- with four ( **four!!!** ) muscle-men, half carrying black sticks –- arrived fairly promptly.

The stick-men stayed by the door and Coulson –- after an argument with a hairy, pale man –- approached Qiaolian by himself.

His demeanor was strong and firm, unyielding, but then again, so was hers. She wasn’t about to exacerbate the situation, but she was sick of meekly passing through her life, keeping her head down and her nose clean, waiting to become pregnant with a bartering chip.

After a long pause –- Coulson weighing Qiaolian and Qiaolian standing firm –- Qiaolian bent. She splayed her hands out in a gesture of surrender. Coulson’s blue eyes bore into her for several more breaths before –- without taking his striking eyes off of her –- he grunted out an incomprehensible command to the stick-wielding men. They left. The other two stayed.

After another long, considering moment, Coulson picked up the battered remnants of the _chair_ and lounged in it, far more at ease than he’d been during any of their trips to the doctor. As Qiaolian sought to retain the Mountain’s strength, she wondered if his calm was only surface deep, like hers, or if he had a cache unbroached during their previous interactions.

In less time than it had taken Coulson and the muscle-men to arrive, Tian-li turned up, hair messy and breathing heavily. She glared at Qiaolian, annoyed, before entering translator-mode.

“Why,” Coulson asked bluntly, firmly, showing he too possessed the Mountain's strength.

Qiaolian rolled her hands and shoulders in a gesture of confusion or helplessness.

“That’s not going to cut it May,” he warned, unswayed.

She’d been thinking of what to say and how to say it, but she was lost in weighting the possible tactical advantages and disadvantages of each of her possible responses.

Qiaolian took a deep breath -- starting at the root of her womb, rising up through her lungs, and out through her nose. She sent a silent plea to her now far-distant ancestors before going with her gut instead of her head.

“I couldn’t live like that anymore, stuck in this room, constantly watched by that bird, just waiting…”

She ended with a small sigh, pausing to watch Coulson’s reaction to her translated words. His face remained impassive. She wished they could communicate directly; she knew Tian-li wasn’t the most perfect of translators, and she needed to explain this **right**.

“I know you have a sound tactical reason to have the spy-bird watch me every fraction of every day, and I’m sorry for killing it, but I needed to do _something_. I couldn’t just wait anymore. Not anymore”

Coulson straightened slightly as Tian-li began translating and they had a rapid and un-translated conversation before Coulson reaffixed his bitingly-blue eyes upon Qiaolian. What he saw there she did not know, for she was attempting to be as blank as a chunk of godsbone.

She continued, “I didn’t intend to cause a ruckus, and I know there will be consequences for my actions, and I will face them with fortitude, but I want you to know I regret my actions. I need to deal with my helplessness and frustration issues internally, and not take them out on your magic people. I promise to control myself better in the future.”

Coulson studied her as Tian-li finished her translation, and for the first time since she had been captured, she felt truly seen. It wasn’t exactly a _comfortable_ experience…

Coulson broke off his soul-studying and said, “You are right, your actions will cause new measures to be taken. You will not be left to yourself so much. It is clearly dangerous.”

With that blandly ominous threat, Coulson returned the _chair_ to the _table_ and shooed Tian-li and the muscle-men out of her chamber. Qiaolian shot a quick look of confusion at Tian-li and she just shrugged in response.

Qiaolian stood in her abruptly empty room and felt like she was sliding down a mountain, unable to grab ahold of anything to slow her descent and without any information as to how much further she was going to fall, or what was waiting for her at the bottom.


	6. Chapter 6

Qiaolian spent the whole rest of the day just waiting.

Just waiting for other shoe to drop, for the consequences to become evident, too anxious to even watch the magic pond. Just waiting. Just breathing. Holding herself steadfastly under control.

In. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Hold. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Out. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._

Nothing happened. The breathing exercises did not help to calm her. Qigong did not calm her.

The corpse of the metal bird remained. Untouched.

The battered chair remained, untouched.

Meals arrived normally, as if nothing had happened. Qiaolian moved the food around on her plate, too nervous to eat. Her stomach was a mass of snakes and her breathing exercises did nothing to soothe them.

The overhead lights began to dim -– dictating the end of the day -– and _still_ nothing had happened. The dead bird hadn’t been replaced or even taken away. No guards had come to punish her or move her to a place she could be watched constantly by other, slimy, eyes. Nothing happened.

Despite the lack of a tattle-bird, Qiaolian obeyed the lights’ unspoken command and curled up on the overly-cushioned platform.

Her heart still raced. Her mind bounced from possible consequence to possible consequence attempting to sort out the worst-case scenarios and possible ameliorating responses, but she knew she was unable to truly predict what these sky-people would do.

Eventually –- after who knows how many twelfthdays of staring at the celling, unwilling to allow herself to toss and turn, fretting and breathing -– Qiaolian fell into a restless sleep. She dreamt about falling, never hitting the bottom, just falling and falling.

She dreamt about being locked up in a clear cage in the middle of the medical bay, people staring at her, giant ants crawling over her, her stomach swelling rapidly to grotesque proportions before bursting.

* * *

After a night of restless sleep and another full day of waiting for some sort of consequences, Qiaolian reached a new balance, sort of. Just in time for Coulson to show up with her dinner -– no, their dinners.

It was just Coulson –- no translator, no guards -– and he placed the two meals on the floor, ignoring the table with grace. He flipped the back part of his top garment out, somehow making himself more comfortable (and emphasizing his surprisingly broad shoulders), before sinking to the floor with ease.

Qiaolian had risen to her feet upon his arrival, only expecting a food tray to be pushed through the door. She spent after several long moments assaying the situation -- the fact that Coulson had come with food _and_ come without Tian-li to translate was quite peculiar -- and eventually, after Coulson gestured her down to join him, she dropped down in front of the meal. Compliance would probably be for the best, despite the as of yet lack of consequences for her destruction of the metal spy-bird.

Coulson began talking –- his words incomprehensible but his intonation calm and congenial -– and began picking at his meal.

Coulson gestured that she should eat the good food –- miming putting food into his mouth, rubbing his stomach, and grinning like a loon –- but Qiaolian continued to just watch.

After a longer moment, he sighed theatrically and swapped their plates. Though Qiaolian doubted the sky-people needed to resort to crude poison to get what they wanted from her, and it was highly unnecessary for Coulson to deliver it himself, she was relieved enough by the gesture to begin to eat. At least Coulson did acknowledge the unusual nature of the meal and her right to be concerned.

After her first bite, Coulson grinned theatrically at her and resumed his monologue. _He certainly did like to hear himself speak._

But, the meal did seem to be of higher quality than normal, odd but high quality. The beef was in one large fillet and accompanied by fresh greens and a starch Tian-li had called _potatoes_. The beef was tender and deliciously fatty. The greens were a bit bitter and stringy, but Qiaolian had had much worse, and they were dressed with a light fruity-tangy sauce of sorts. The potatoes had a hint of a bitter, biting something, a taste quite common in sky-food, but they too were good. 

Qiaolian’s mind raced throughout the meal, attempting to figure out when and how this would turn into a punishment for yesterday’s actions, only her fierce self control allowed her to eat at all -- she  _refused_ to show any weakness in front of Coulson. At first she wondered if she was going to be  _literally_  talked to death, and she watched Coulson closely, trying not to be quite as obvious about it as before.

Coulson used his knife and _fork_ with absentminded skill, a skill Tian-li had been attempting to impart to Qiaolian. His blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he rambled and Qiaolian no longer found his large, shiny forehead to be quite so distasteful. In some ways it hinted at his keen observational skills.

After they finished their meal –- Coulson’s progress somewhat hampered by his incessant monologue –- he absconded with the empty plates and returned with even more food. Upon Coulson’s return with _more_ food Qiaolian was certain that he was going to feed her until she was as round as a mythical panda bear and physically _unable_ to cause any trouble.

The new food was in the form of a small bowl of earth-brown stuff and Qiaolian reluctantly succumbed to Coulson’s gestures and took a spoonful (for Skye had been teaching her ‘proper’ eating protocols) of the brown food and placed it in her mouth.

It was smooth and rich and fluffy and creamy and sweet and flavorful and a bit bitter and _amazing_! It coated her tongue with this fluffy, creamy sensation and danced upon her taste buds.

It was heavenly.

That _was_ the only proper term for the sensation, heavenly.

Coulson was watching her intensely and his odd blue eyes truly sparkled with glee at her enjoyment. _Perhaps being fed into a complacent state wouldn’t be all bad…_

She tried to get Coulson to tell her the name of the brown food, and after a few attempts her gestures succeeded and she learned that this magical food was called _choco-late._

 _Choco-late_ was very good.

The _choco-late_ was gone far too soon.

Coulson picked up the bowls, spoons, and dead metal bird before bowing goodbye.

Qiaolian went to bed still confused by Coulson’s behavior, and only slept well due to the utter physical and emotional exhaustion from the previous two days.

* * *

After that first meal with the _choco-late_ , Coulson continued to stop by randomly with meals. Qiaolian couldn’t quite figure out _why_ he kept coming. It took about four of these visits for Qiaolian to realize Coulson was attempting to tame her through kindness and no further consequences for her ‘outburst’ were forthcoming -– she was a bit ashamed at how long it took her to realize that.

He certainly was trying to convince her that he wasn’t a bad guy and that she shouldn’t fight her circumstances, and he did bring some fine food, and overall it was a fairly persuasive tactic. One she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. She could handle punishments and deprivation, but this unnerved her.

The spy-bird was never replaced -– at least not noticeably, if the sky-people had spy-fleas, she’d never know.

Her room was uncomfortably quiet -– even with the magic pond on -– without his soothing flow of nonsense sounds. As she became aware of this… annoying attachment, she became focused on ensuring it was _not_ evident in her behavior.On the other hand, she _did_ begin to pay more attention to Tian-li’s translations in order to learn his language –- for the tactical advantage, of course -– so she could surreptitiously learn more and so she would no longer have to depend upon imprecise translation or crude miming.


	7. Chapter 7

For the next doctor’s visit, Coulson arrived alone; well, with Tian-li, but without the guards. Qiaolian didn’t know if it was because Coulson strongly believed in the efficacy of his ‘taming’ program, or if he could actually see through her and somehow read a slight easing of her body language.

The second round of _artificial insemination_ was just as unsuccessful as the first, and Coulson was just as disappointed as he was previously, but Qiaolian could read him slightly better this time. He was also relieved. This puzzled her. **He** was the one who wanted her children.

In addition to this confounding observation, Qiaolian could follow both sides of Tian-li’s translation (somewhat) and even caught the fact that Doctor Simmons wanted to start checking her ‘hormone levels’ every two days.

This meant trips to the med-bay every other morning. 

Surprisingly, Coulson continued his random, frequent, meal-time visits and the guards no longer made an appearance except on the rare occasions Coulson was not there to accompany her and Tian-li to the doctor’s. Tian-li was not as careful as Coulson, and Qiaolian was finally able to construct a mental map of the path from her room to the med-bay. They were actually quite close together; Coulson just took very circuitous paths. He was a sly one.

Once, after an absence of several days, Coulson arrived to escort her to the med-bay with his arm in a white cloth _sling_ and a bandage over his right eye. Tian-li chided him fiercely for not staying in bed and resting and Coulson brushed her off, saying something about his _duty_. (This was not translated, of course, but the magic pond was invaluable for speeding up language-learning once Qiaolian had picked up the basics from listening to Tian-li.

* * *

The day after this particular doctor’s visit –- when Qiaolian surreptitiously learned that Doctor Simmons was checking her stress hormone levels in addition to her fertility hormones, whatever that meant, she’d demanded an explanation from Doctor Simmons but didn’t understand her original answer or Tian-li translated answer –- Coulson arrived in the middle of the day, completely alone.

His knock startled Qiaolian –- who was in the middle of her daily language and culture lesson (watching oddly dressed people shouting about Twinbrothers and Secretmistresses). His arm was still in the _sling_ but his bandage had been removed, revealing a row of tiny black rope knots on his temple. _How was it that he was continually getting injured? What did he do?_

Coulson gestured for her to accompany him outside and she complied, confused. She had gotten her blood drawn just the day before…

He offered her his arm –- something she had only seen on the odd _shows_ on the magic pond –- and with puzzlement she took it. It was an odd thing, placing her hand on his (oddly toned) forearm and having her hand caught between his arm and torso. It was an odd balance between being guided and being trapped. She wasn’t a fan.

They turned down a different hallway and away from where she knew the med-bay to be. The hallways grew more crowded -– truly an ant-hive like feel, full of people off different hues, shapes, and kinds -– but no matter how crowded the metal hallways grew, Coulson managed to wind their way two abreast. As they proceeded, Qiaolian watched the passersby with rapt interest, but not too raptly not to note that Coulson was watching her reactions closely.

They eventually entered a small room -- no thumb-opening necessary -- and Coulson gave her a pointed look before pushing a _button_. There was a faint noise and then her stomach suck. The room was moving!

She shot Coulson a glance and he smiled encouragingly. Apparently this was expected. She took a deep breath.

In. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Hold. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Out. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._

After a twelfth-count or maybe two, the room stopped moving, _ding_ ed, and a door opened up. Opened up into a magical place with plants, and the smells of rich, moist soil, and even the faint buzzing of insects. She looked at Coulson and his eyes twinkled with amusement. She stepped forward –- was hugged by the welcoming humidity -– and walked a short ways in a daze. She stopped and stroked the scaly bark of a nearby apricot tree. It was rough. It was honest. It was _home_.

Qiaolian spent some time reacquainting herself with the tree, its sights and textures, before becoming cognizant of Coulson watching her with this gently amused look on his face. The simple kindness reflected there eased a bit of _emptiness_ in her heart; an emptiness she didn’t even know existed. An emptiness that had been there, unacknowledged, a long time.

She stepped back and surveyed the area. It was clearly still inside the helicarrier –- the metal floors, regular metal columns, and bright yellow lights spoke to that –- yet the room went on and on and on. Plants were clustered like with like in godsbone boxes of rich soil. The area she was currently in contained fruit trees she was familiar with, but strange trees, grasses, ground plants, and herbs of all sorts could all be seen from her vantage point.

Qiaolian quirked a querying eyebrow at Coulson and he nodded; gesturing broadly to explore at her leisure by throwing his hands wide, palms open. She gifted him a grateful smile –- a shy, honest smile -– before ghosting through the place greeting long lost friends and their vaguely familiar cousins. Qiaolian recognized many things, but in general, the fruit was bigger, the plants smaller, and far more tame. Qiaolian drank in the profusion of life, something she had sorely missed.

Qiaolian found one carefully tended beehive –- contented plump workers buzzing peacefully –- and the air was fragrant and fresh with life. After perhaps a twelfthday of child-like exuberance –- always making sure Coulson could still see her and to not damage anything (except for bruising a leaf or two of several of her favorite herbs) -– she returned to Coulson’s side, an unfamiliar grin gracing her face.

He smiled softly at her obvious happiness and stood up from the bench he had stationed himself, and began guiding her someplace. The trees grew stranger and stranger –- their leaves a deeper, glossy green and oddly shaped too, very broad – until he pointed to one short tree with several bright orange squash-like fruits sprouting directly from the trunk.

“ _Chocolate_ ,” he said pointing to the tree.

“ _Choco-late_?” she asked incredulously. It was one of the oddest plants Qiaolian had ever seen.

“ _Chocolate_ ,” he confirmed.

She quirked her head –- wordlessly asking for permission -– before hopping up on the godsbone planter and carefully touching and smelling the fruit. It had a bit of a rubbery give to it, but it smelled nothing like the heavenly food _choco-late_ , which she had had three times in total.

She crept back from the odd plant and pointed to another asking for its name. Coulson indulged her, naming _bananas_ , _coffee,_ and many others.

Qiaolian noticed Coulson getting weary and walking more carefully, as if in pain, so she purposefully wound their way back to the entrance. As the plants grew familiar to her again, in addition to asking for Coulson’s name for the plant -– or the edible portion, she didn’t quite know how he was answering – she began telling him her names for the plants.

Coulson tried gallantly to reproduce her names, but for the most part failed miserably. He managed to call the lovely apricot tree ‘xing shoe’ and that was one of the closest he got. He truly butchered the name of the poor cherry tree. Qiaolian shuddered. He simply had an iron tongue and could not capture the music of her language. Qiaolian felt sorry for him, or at least she would if he could ever get ‘Qiaolian’ right.

They reached the moving-room and Coulson smiled with gratitude at her gesture to leave. Qiaolian took a long moment to savior the smell of soil, the feel of wet clean air, and the sounds of insects. It was nice knowing there was a place of life in the large sterile ant-hive of the helicarrier. It was nice to know her children would not grow up complete strangers to _life._

Her contemplation done, she pushed the _button_ to open the door and led Coulson into the moving-room.

As the _door_ closed Qiaolian could barely suppress a smile. Though she was fully cognizant that Coulson was doing this in order to tame her, this knowledge did little to suppress her gratitude and joy for the day’s experiences. It wasn’t until far later did she realize that that was the first time she had really thought about her children’s future, the first time she had actually considered the future more than a seven-day or two ahead in quite some time.


	8. Chapter 8

After a couple seven-days Doctor Simmons -– with her endless blood samples- – decided on an ‘optimal’ time for the third round of artificial insemination. It just so happened to be in the middle of the night, which quite annoyed Tian-li.

Qiaolian herself didn’t really care one way or the other. She was going to be injected with Coulson’s essence no matter what, the actual time of day mattered little, it’s not like she had anything important to do the next day!

It’s not like she had any say in the matter...

Throughout the serpentine sojourn to the med-bay, Tian-li kept up a running monologue of complaints about ‘having a life’, ‘needing her beauty sleep’, and ‘hating the demands of the job’. The yammering sparrow looked quite put out as well, her face lacked the unnatural hues it normally sported about the eyes and lips, her clothes were rumpled, and her pupils were unnaturally large.

Coulson seemed utterly unaffected by the late hour; his clothing was just as crisp and neat as always, his blue eyes bright and unwearied, and his meager hair slicked down.

Once they arrived at the med-bay, Doctor Simmons greeted them like always, nothing in her demeanor (bright-eyed and jocular, as normal) or mannerisms (abrupt and odd, as normal) indicating she was at all perturbed by the late hour. She proceeded to undertake the full standard exam –- even though she had done so just a half-day before, and two days before that, and two days before that –- but protocols were protocols to Doctor Simmons.

Qiaolian found Coulson’s unflappability and Doctor Simmons’s consistency reassuring, but even Tian-li’s incessant complaints were soothing –- if you took them with a grain (or a pinch) of salt.

Once the standard exam was complete –- Tian-li no longer even bothered to attempt to translate Doctor Simmons’s commands and Qiaolian meekly submitted to Doctor Simmons’ ministrations, hoping that her compliance was assumed to be due to previous experience, not a functional knowledge of the language (she wasn’t ready to give away that tactical advantage quite yet) –- it was time for round three of artificial insemination.

Doctor Simmons handed her the _paper dressing gown_ and shooed everyone out of the room while Qiaolian changed. After the appropriate interval they returned and Doctor Simmons flipped open the _stirrups_ and prepared the _speculum_. Once she was finished preparing the exam table, Doctor Simmons gestured to the exam table and left to get the syringe. Qiaolian climbed up and situated herself in the still-quite-awkward position. Once her legs were spread indecently wide and well covered, Coulson slipped into his customary position by her head, ready to have his fingers nearly broken.

Doctor Simmons returned (purple handed) and as she inserted the syringe, Qiaolian mused about those purple hand-garments and how Doctor Simmons thought them necessary for some procedures and not for others.

The coldness that Qiaolian knew was Coulson’s essence (a more-than-slightly disturbing thought) bloomed from her center and she pondered if it would work this time. If this time his essence would mix with hers and form a baby. She ruminated on this line of thought for far too long –- perhaps the late hour _did_ affect her –- and before she knew it, Doctor Simmons bade them good night and Tian-li’s protestations precipitously shifted from soothing to annoying. She was complaining about missing out on her beauty sleep whilst Qiaolian was being injected with a baby without any recourse but acquiescence. Gruffly, Qiaolian took the lead as they left the med-bay. She silently led Coulson and Tian-li back to her room -– the short way. She wasn’t in the mood for all that clandestine bullshit right now.

Had she been in a more equable mood, she might have noticed the distinctly _reassessing_ manner with which Coulson was following her. But she wasn’t, so she didn’t.

* * *

A few days later -– Qiaolian was relieved by the hiatus from every-other-day blood draws as it would give her poor inner arms time to heal, Doctor Simmons was fine at drawing blood, but too many insults in too short a time was bound it cause bruising no matter how skilled the phlebotomist –- Coulson arrived at her door for another field trip (Tian-li’s odd term for these excursions).

This time Tian-li was with him and they headed away from the med-bay but not towards the gardens either. They were going to yet another part of the helicarrier!

Qiaolian had to hone her self-control to keep from grinning and bouncing with excitement, any thought of a unpleasant possible destination did not even enter mind, which would have surprised her had she noticed; she was letting down her guard.

Phil thumb-opened a new door that opened up to a large mostly empty room. It was maybe four times the size of the med-bay and as wide as the garden but only about as long as it was wide. It was dark-metal grey (like almost all of the helicarrier) with huge yellow lights in the ceiling. Unlike the garden there were no columns to break up the space and the only detectable differences the four quadrants had was the presence of differently colored cushion-like things on the floor, or their absence.

Coulson led the two women to the back right quadrant. A quadrant with blue cushions, which were fairly firm under the feet, and a tall woman dressed in a black/dark blue skin-tight garment. The neighboring quadrant (the back left quadrant) lacked cushions but contained one small, redheaded woman in a pink skin-tight garment and a small gaggle of girls bouncing about in frilly pink garments.

The tall blue-garbed woman clipped out a command and Qiaolian could no longer afford to be distracted by what was not directly in front of her. Qiaolian hadn’t made out the command and had to wait for Tian-li to translate.

“Welcome Chow-lin,” she had apparently said -– though how she could make that sound like a command was _confusing_.

“Mai,” Qiaolian replied, attempting to sound both respectful and yet not weak. She was sick of having her name mangled, and these sky people seemed to have fewer issues with her family name. And she didn’t really think this woman was old enough to call her by her personal name without it coming off as somewhat disrespectful, no matter how authoritative she was.

“May,” the woman repeated, head cocked slightly.

Qiaolian nodded and smiled slightly, imperceptibly to most.

“Hill,” the woman introduced herself tersely.

Coulson must have considered these introductions to be insufficient (though succinctness suited Qiaolian just fine), and made his own, far more elaborate, introductions, “Maria Hill this is Mai Chow-lin, my guest and an expert in Chi gong.” Surprisingly he didn’t butcher Qigong too badly, and Hill rolled her eyes at Coulson’s euphemistic word, so she must know Qiaolian’s true purpose.

“Mai Chow-lin, this is _Commander_ Maria Hill an old friend and an expert in Jiu-jitsu.” Tian-li translated the unfamiliar word as Under-General, so the woman had some sort of military rank, which Qiaolian found quite intriguing as both a reflection of the woman herself and the sky-people culture. She also wondered what Jiu-jitsu was and if that was why she was here.

The answer to her second question was answered pretty readily when –- without warning –- Hill began a series of stretches that, though they were foreign were still very clearly warm-up stretches. Interestingly Coulson and Tian-li joined in the warm-up stretches, but Tian-li quickly lost interest and began goofing off. Qiaolian just rolled her eyes at the Sparrow’s facial grimaces and caricatured stretchings, but Hill curtly told her to “knock it off”, and when she failed to do so, unceremoniously banished her to the side. 

Qiaolian liked this no-nonsense woman.

After the warm-up stretches Hill guided Coulson and Qiaolian through a set of patterned mirror-exercises, where she’d mime punching, kicking, chopping, or throwing an invisible opponent and Qiaolian and Coulson would follow suit. This -- though Qiaolian knew it was nothing like Qigong or true combat -– truly peaked her interest.

Just as Qiaolian’s heart had begun to pick up the pace, Coulson called an end to the session. He thanked Hill for her instruction –- though Qiaolian was certain the whole thing was for her; Coulson could have gone by himself –- and stepped aside to cajole a sulking Tian-li.

Qiaolian bowed and thanked Hill formally for her instruction. From the side Tian-li translated her thanks to which the Dragon-like Hill replied, “I know, _I’m_ not an idiot.”

Qiaolian _really_ liked this woman.


	9. Chapter 9

The time river flowed on and Mai became almost comfortable in her life aboard the helicarrier. Once a seven-day Coulson would take her to the _gym_ to learn Jiu-jitsu from Hill –- Tian-li having been completely banished from the gym for her disruptive behavior. And she was deemed unnecessary, as Jiu-jitsu needed no translation; Hill rather preferred to adjust Mai’s stance or whatnot with a correcting hand.

About three moons after she had come aboard the helicarrier -– as the days had begun to blur together and lose their adrenaline-defined crispness –- Coulson and Tian-li made an unscheduled appearance.

Mai quickly halted her faux Jiu-jitsu strengthening exercises, pulled on an additional top-garment and looked expectantly at the pair. _Where were they going now?_

Coulson observed her reaction and smiled a small, indulgent smile, just a step or two from patronizing.

“We’re not going anywhere today,” he said via Tian-li. Mai had to remind herself not to react until after the translation. All this subterfuge business was difficult, important, but difficult to remember every single day.

She released her natural moue of disappointment after Tian-li’s translation was done.

Coulson’s smile broadened, now toeing the line of indulgent/patronizing.

“I’m sorry, but I think you’ll enjoy this too,” he continued.

Mai fixed him with her blankest stare.

“Right,” he said softly, to himself, and then louder, “Right. Skye would you please … ?”

Mai couldn’t make heads or tails out of the rest of their conversation, but watched enchanted as Tian-li ran a blue light over a portion of her wall and then proceeded to open the wall up and pull out some roots/veins.

Her fingers flew as she hooked something up to the roots/veins, tapped and poked at the new object while murmuring to herself.

After a space of time, she took a break from tapping to grab Mai’s hand and run something that emitted a red light over it before returning to her magic.

Several times Coulson **tried** to mime that Mai should resume her exercises, but she feigned confusion and continued to watch Tian-li’s sorcery.

In less than a twelfthday, a brand-new thumb-scanner-door-opener-thingy was embedded into Mai’s wall.

A burgeoning sense of _importance_ flushed Mai’s mind (and face too, perhaps). This action meant something, this was **important**.

Of course Coulson would choose this moment to be contrary and puttered about, leaving Mai to stew in her own anticipation. Eventually she grew frustrated with his exploration of her room, and stood directly in his path and pointed at the thumb-scanner-door-opening-thing (which Tian-li was still fiddling with) silently demanding answers.

Coulson’s smile grew mischievous and he shrugged. Mai refused to move and kept pointing.

Finally Coulson gave in with a good-natured sigh and went over to Tian-li.

“I finally convinced Nick to let us activate your _pass-pad_ ,” Tian-li translated that as door-opening-thingy. “Normally they don’t do that until a guest has been with us for six _months_ ,” moons, “But I convinced him that you were far more dangerous than the average guest.”

Mai ducked her head at his praise; pleased he recognized she wasn’t some meek Rabbit or oblivious Pig.

“I mean that as a _compliment_ ,” good-thing, “You’ve got a _sound tactical mind_ ,” a General’s mind, “that you’ve just barely let us get a _glimpse_ at,” see. “You know there isn’t really a way for you to get home even if you do have free reign over the helicarrier. You know that the best option, the only option is compliance, and you are _pragmatic_ ” realistic “enough to accept that. Please don’t make me regret this; don’t let me overestimate you.”

Mai went from basking in the warm glow of Coulson’s esteem to freezing in dread. _At what point did he see her tactical mind? At what point did she slip up? And why wasn’t he **under** estimating her?_

Unfortunately, though her basking was singularly unnoticeable, her startled-deer impression was rather conspicuous.

“Uh, I mean, that, uh, wasn’t a threat, or anything… ” Coulson stammered, “And uh, you _will_ get to go home after all of this is done,” Coulson’s voice grew higher in pitch with nervousness.

A small (evil) part of Mai wanted to stay frozen to see how long and how high Coulson’s babbling would grow, but her nose itched, and he **had** been a good ‘host’, so tormenting him wasn’t precisely called for. She sagged –- freezing could be hard on the muscles -– and nodded at Tian-li’s imprecise translations.

Coulson relaxed in turn –- which was rather endearing -– and continued with his obviously prepared spiel, “In the beginning, you’ll only be able to open your door during prescheduled time periods for things such as check-ups. But this isn’t just to make your doctor’s visits more convenient,” he winked, and then grew more serious, “Though you certainly do know how to get there –- and someday soon you might even be able to go to the gym and meet Maria.”

Mai was quite relieved by Coulson’s pointed remark about knowing her way to the med-bay. **That** was when he had caught a glimpse of her tactical mind. In retrospect, she probably shouldn’t have lost her temper at Tian-li’s whining and Coulson’s sneakiness, but oh well. What’s done was done, and actually, if this was the result of her losing her temper, maybe she should do it more frequently.

Coulson continued talking about how this was a privilege, and one that could be taken away or expanded based upon her behavior as Mai processed his earlier statements, but she caught Tian-li’s somewhat crude translations.

When Coulson asked if she had any questions she nodded and asked through Tian-li, “What if I get lost?”

She hoped she wasn’t showing her hand too much.

Coulson smiled a knowing little grin and replied, “If you get lost, you can press your thumb to any pass-pad you are not authorized to use and a security team will come to you and _escort_ ” show “you back to your room. If you get lost too frequently then you probably shouldn’t wander around the helicarrier by yourself anymore and your pass-pad will be deactivated.”

Mai was pleased by his answer. He showed just the right amount of tooth-and-claws. A little bit of exploring to get the lay of the land would be tolerated, but too much would lead to abrogation of her ‘privileges’.

As Tian-li wrapped up her wizardry, Mai wondered how many sessions per seven-day she could wrangle out of Hill, and if she might be allowed to visit the garden. Not that she could find her way there through the maze of the helicarrier, yet.

Having even a little bit of control -- and independence -- over her schedule would be marvelous.

These pleasant thoughts were at the forefront of her mind as she bid Coulson and Tian-li goodbye and recommenced her Jiu-jitsu.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the third time is the charm, and an oath is shared.

On the day of her next doctor’s appointment, Coulson and Skye knocked on her door and waited for her to open it up with her new pass-pad. The rush of power she felt over such a seemingly small portion of sovereignty was almost painfully acute.

Coulson allowed Mai to lead the way to the med-bay and she continued to be embarrassed by how pleased she was at such a simple thing.

Once they reached the med-bay, the blood-draw and indomitable waiting period proceeded much as it had the previous two times. However, this time Doctor Simmons returned from her _lab_ with a glow of victory. Mai did not need to hear her, or Skye, say, “Congratulations; you’re pregnant!” to know the news.

She took the time they used to unnecessarily convey this information to process it.

She felt a perverse sense of relief. The worst had happened. She was pregnant. No more waiting. Well, that wasn’t quite true, the baby would need 8 more moons to mature (according to Doctor Simmons), but if her experiences with the pregnant women in her clan were of any relevance, it wouldn’t exactly be **waiting**. Now that she was truly pregnant, many of the questions she had suppressed bubbled up: _what would happen to her baby after he was born? Would she even get to see him? What would he look like? How much of a say would she have in his life? How long until they wanted another baby? What would happen to her after she had the required second baby? What would happen to her babies after she left?_

She pushed those questions down once more to focus on her surroundings. Their news conveyed, Doctor Simmons and Skye began jumping up and down hands on the other’s shoulder, emitting an inhumane high-pitched squealing noise -– like the young girls they were –- and Coulson looked pleased, relieved, and oddly unhappy.

Unthinkingly, Mai asked, “Why sad baby?”

Coulson blinked once –- the only indication he gave of his mild surprise -– and pulled a chair over to her before explaining slowly, “I never thought I would have a child. I have a very dangerous- – do you know that word? -– job. It is only because the doctors thought we were such as good match that I even _qualified_.”

“Qualified?” she asked, relishing the opportunity to communicate directly. Though later she would kick herself for revealing her tactical advantage unthinkingly, **again**. Her mother was right; her biggest failing was acting before she thought.

“Allowed to be here. My job is too dangerous for me to normally thought to be a good enough father. My father died when I was a child. I do not want that for my children. So, I thought I would never have them. But here I am. With you. And her,” he pointed to her stomach.

“A girl?” she asked, astounded.

Coulson grinned, “We do not know yet. But soon: in a few weeks. I have a feeling though.”

“Your job?” she asked. It hadn’t even occurred to her that the sky-people would have jobs or duties. Sure Skye complained about her translating duties, but that hardly seemed like a job to Mai. The sky-people seemed to have such a plush life with their abundant food and wealth of clothing, why would they need to have _dangerous_ jobs?

Coulson pursed his lips for a moment before answering, “I fight bad people; I fight bad things.”

Mai gave him her most skeptical glare.

“No, it’s true,” he rebutted, looking slightly hurt, “My team and I fight _monsters_. Erm, several _generations_ ago, when, uh, _Gods_ walked the _earth_ , everything changed. People changed. Some of those changed people are bad, and we stop them.”

Mai remained skeptical. Coulson’s body language conveyed the fact that he believed everything he was saying, and it would explain his previous injuries, but it did not make sense. Coulson called Skye away from her celebrations with Doctor Simmons to help him explain.

Coulson might have been disappointingly unflustered by her ‘big reveal’ but Skye was downright astonished by Mai’s knowledge of their language. After Coulson finally calmed her down and assured her that they really had been having a conversation without her, Skye translated Coulson’s previous rebuttal. Mai was still unconvinced.

Doctor Simmons -– still glowing with her sense of satisfaction and victory, though she didn't really do much -– kicked them out of the med-bay, and they continued their conversation on their way back to Mai’s room.

Coulson began by asking, “Have you heard of Chan Ho-Yin, The Man of Fire?”

Mai nodded. Coulson inclined his head, asking for more.

Mai could not quite suppress a small smile and began in her own language (though she knew his tongue, speaking in her own was easier and this was going to be many, many words), “A few year years ago travelers from the south carried with them tales of a man made of fire, a man who could control fire, a man who could throw fire. The tales of his power grew crazier by the year. This man-of-tales took over his clan, and then conquered the nearby clans as well, taking more power than one man should ever possess. The last tale I heard of him said that he had amassed so much power even his ancestors turned from him and he burned to death. No one in my clan believed these tales, even when one traveler bore a hand-shaped burn on his chest.”

They both followed Skye’s translation, and Mai found it a great relief that she could **finally** correct Skye when she mistranslated her words.

Coulson nodded and said, “The Man of Fire was real. He burned one of my men alive in front of me as we were attempting to _subdue_ him peacefully.”

“Subdue?” Mai interrupted.

“Take him down. Commander Hill crossed him off -- killed him -- not his ancestors.”

For some reason Mai could accept brusque Hill as a ‘monster hunter’ easier than dependable Coulson, but still her most important question had yet to be addressed.

“Why?”

“Our ancestors swore an _oath_ ; I swore an _oath_. To serve when everything else fails, to be humanity’s last line of defense! To be the shield…” Coulson gesticulated broadly before tapering off.

Mai was struck silent by the power and raw feeling Coulson conveyed, which both contradicted and amplified his steadfast, earnest demeanor. He truly believed in what he was doing.

Coulson blushed slightly at his unexpectedly heartfelt speech and shrugged, jokingly adding, “And it helps keep the boat in the air.”

Coulson’s quip apparently did little to relieve his embarrassment, and he quickly ducked out, leaving Skye to chide Mai about her subterfuge.

Mai did nothing to defend herself against Skye’s harangue, and quickly she exhausted the conversation topic. There was only so much she could say to Mai about misleading them about her language comprehension, and she clearly was no match for Mai’s blank face.

It wasn’t until several twelfthdays later did Mai’s mind circle back to the thought that she was now pregnant. She now had a tiny baby growing inside her. She was going to bring a tiny person into the world; this strange world of flying clans and earnest, dependable monster-hunters. The questions she had pushed down earlier came to mind once more: _what would happen to her baby after she was born? Would she get to see her? What would she look like? How much of a say would Mai have in her life? How much of a say would **the baby** have in her life? Would she have to follow her father’s job-path? Would she have to swear that oath? What would happen to her if her father did die? How would the sky-people take care of her if she became an orphan? Mai_  had no way to answer these questions and tried to put them aside for the time being.

She began her Qigong exercises (slightly abandoned recently in favor of Jiu-jitsu) and attempted to focus on the next eight moons and leave the rest of the future for another time. She wasn't too successful.

That night she again dreamt of flying on a giant crane. This time it was pulling a giant grey turtle with a bustling ant-hive on its shell. Her stomach was round with child. She was wearing Hill's dark blue skin-tight garment.


	11. Chapter 11

Mai still was unsettled the next day. She was pregnant; shouldn’t she feel different?

She flowed through her morning Qigong exercises and poked at her breakfast. The potatoes were cold and undercooked, but she couldn’t say she was suffering from any sort of morning sickness.

She debated working through her Jiu-jitsu exercises, but as Doctor Simmons hadn’t said anything to the contrary, and **had** said that the baby was smaller than a grain of rice, she decided not to forgo them.

An elated Coulson arrived with her midday meal; he had clearly overcome his apprehensions.

As Mai ate, Coulson babbled about prenatal development, symptoms of pregnancy, and proper prenatal care. Thankfully he did not expect much in the way of a response from her as it really sounded like he had absorbed Doctor Simmons during the night; or at least her knowledge. And Mai doubted she’d understand even half of his words **with** Skye’s help, let alone without it. He hardly poked at his own food but urged her to eat hers -– especially the bitter greens.

Mai expected Coulson to vanish with the plates at the end of the meal, as he had done so before, but instead he said he had something special to show her. She smiled, fully expecting a field trip to a _nursery_ or a playground or the like. Now that it was real, he had really gotten into this whole baby thing.

Coulson offered her his arm, and the whole being guided/being trapped thing actually grew on her. It was a convenient way to stick together through the winding maze of the helicarrier. As like with the field trip to the garden, the hallways grew quite busy with people of all sorts before growing quiet again.

When Coulson thumbed open the pass-pad, Mai was startled to see a gently arcing room full of cushioned chairs and _couches_ all facing an enormous _window._ It was truly daylight outside and Mai was drawn forward, towards the glass panel unconsciously.

She suddenly found herself with her nose and forehead pressed against the cold glass looking down. They were flying over a forest and she could vaguely make out the bluish fuzz of individual trees. A mirrory ribbon of a river meandered through the forest and Mai was utterly mesmerized by the way the river glided effortlessly beneath them.

_This was even better than my flying dreams._

The bluish-green fuzz became slightly darker as the prominent type of tree changed beneath them. The still snow-covered mounds of far distant mountains came into view and Mai could have stayed in this dream-room forever, watching the ground race beneath her and the mountains creep towards her.

_This was my true home. This was my true calling._

The sense of wonder and rightness that rose up within her was stronger that the sense of rightness she had felt tracking the child-eating tiger, or hunting a deer which would hold her clan’s hunger at bay for another few days. It even surpassed the sense of peace she felt during Qigong.

The mountains crawled towards far slower than the river had, and the overwhelming **bliss** subsided to manageable levels.

It was only then did she realize Coulson had been standing beside her the whole time.

A huge grin beamed forth from his face, he clearly took great satisfaction from seeing the world pass beneath them. _Or, perhaps, he took great satisfaction from my joy_ , she revised, noticing that his focus was on her, not the panorama.

She turned back to the incomparable vista before her, allowing it to lull her into a renewed sense of awe and ignore the prickling at the nape of her neck and emptiness under her stomach generated by that particular thought.

And yet she could not completely ignore him.

Eventually, she turned to Coulson and said, “Land so pretty. So big. No question, you need protect.”

He had taken a break from observing her, but her neck-prickles returned with his regard.

“The land is beautiful, and far bigger than I can really believe,” Coulson replied, and then, atypically, he fell silent again.

Over the next twelfthday the mountains crept close and then they flew over them. The snow-capped peaks and the greening valleys were simply magnificent and Mai could not bear to take her eyes off of them. They however, did come to an end and the land on the other side of the mountains was fairly brown and less interesting, so she turned her attention back to Coulson.

She pulled herself away from the window and sat in a cushioned char next to him –- he had retreated to a couch before they had even reached the mountains.

“Why?” she asked succinctly.

“I thought you would like it. I wasn’t wrong, was I?” Coulson quipped back.

Mai bestowed a half-hearted eye roll upon him.

 “I wanted you to see the beauty and wonder of my world, not just the poking and prodding of Doctor Simmons’ or the _television shows_ and _clothes_ of Skye’s.”

Mai didn’t understand many of his words, but got the intent behind them. She was touched. _That was why he introduced me to chocolate. That was why he took me to the garden. That was why he introduced me to Hill. That was why he took me here._

She hoped her sentimental thoughts were not obvious on her face and smiled before saying simply, “Thank you.”

Coulson looked almost startled by her thanks and curled up tightly into his chair. _Was this a normal sky-person response to thanks?_

She ignored this thought and jumped feet first into another thought-stream, “Our baby? She come here?”

Coulson was truly puzzled by this question –- his face made some interesting contortions –- but he quickly regained his equilibrium and joked, “Well, not by herself she can’t. Not until she’s older.”

The joke fell flat. Flatter than something really flat.

 “Yes, I’ll make sure she will; or you will, whatever,” he revised.

“Whatever?”

Coulson sighed, “We really should wait to have this conversation until later, when Skye, your Aide and Translator can be here…”

Mai silently demanded answers.

“But I suppose I won’t be _stepping on too many toes_ to tell you the common agreements.”

Mai nodded, prompting him onwards.

Coulson shifted in his seat, staring out the window, “The most common agreement is that the mother gets full _custody_ for the first two years, and then tries for a second. The father gets _joint custody_ starting when the first child is 24 months old and the parents share _custody_ until the second child is 24 months old or 5 years old; whenever the mother chooses to return home.”

“Custody?” Mai didn’t know this word, and from context it seemed quite important.

“Who lives with, makes decisions about, and cares for the child. If you choose this, then for the first two years I can only see our child if you say I can, and only you will take care of her –- though we do have helpers if you want one. After that, she will spend half of her time with me, and half of her time with you.”

Mai nodded signaling her comprehension, though she did think the plan seemed to make sense and did much to ease her apprehension and concerns.

But she still had one burning question, “And if you die?”

Coulson pulled his gaze from the window, examining her closely, before answering, “That’s a _toughy_ ; um, that’s a hard question. But no matter what happens to me, our children will always be loved and cared for, and whatever plan we come up with won’t change unless **you** want it to.”

Coulson stared resolutely out the window. He seemed to want to stop talking about this, and Mai’s most urgent questions had been addressed, so she obliged, sitting back and watching sun set earlier than expected.

She might not have much control over her life, but it appeared Coulson was endeavoring to give her as much control over her daughter’s life as possible.


	12. Chapter 12

As time passed, May began to accept this whole being pregnant thing more and more. It helped that magic _pills_ began arriving with her meals as well as whole fruit, unstuffed buns, and other ‘snackables’ as Doctor Simmons described them. Eating many small meals –- even in the middle of the night –- if she was hungry was supposed to reduce morning sickness (not that she’d experienced that yet).

In the beginning she wouldn’t have even considered taking a pill had they given her one, nor had they given her anything remotely portable –- too high of a risk of hoarding away provisions for an escape attempt May supposed. But now they had her. The risks and difficulties of escaping were just amplified by risks of ending up somewhere _else_ on that huge planet, pregnant, and alone. An eventuality May did not want to consider.

Another helpful reminder was her breasts were incredibly sore. Not simply pre-cycle soreness, but something more. Doctor Simmons had said that was completely normal and gave her some more supportive _sports bras_ for her Qigong and Jiu-jitsu exercises, but it was still annoying.

Thankfully, Doctor Simmons had relieved her worries and had said that she _should_ continue her Qigong for as long as she felt comfortable with each exercise and that even Maria Hill’s Jiu-jitsu exercises should be fine for the next few months.

With her doctor’s orders (or permissions) in mind, May had gotten Coulson to make one more meeting with Hill for today. If everything went well today, May would be able to set up, go to, and communicate during Maria Hill’s Jiu-jitsu sessions all by herself!

The idea of that sort of independence was the reason May had had difficulty sleeping last night and was staring at the ceiling willing time to pass faster (and ignoring her annoying bladder). After an indeterminable amount of time, May gave up on exerting her will on the universe (it had never worked before…) and emptied her bladder (for the third time that night).

She centered herself and began to flow through some Qigong exercises to settle her mind and pass the time productively. Even as she had begun to accept the truth about her pregnancy, doubts about her child’s future still weighed heavily upon her. Yes, the sky-people claimed they couldn’t have children of their own, and yes Coulson said no matter what their children would be loved and cared for, but she had seen what had happened to the refugees from a different clan.

They’d been taken in, and hadn’t starved or left to freeze to death, but their situation hadn’t exactly been enviable. Widows were taken on as second wives with little recourse, orphans adopted and sometimes treated as family. But the intact families had it worst. They were hardly slaves, but never full clan members either, they were the last to pick portions of meat and skins, and as a result they were always slightly underfed and shabby. They huddled on the outskirts of the village, rarely having the energy to repair and improve their ramshackle, gifted huts. Within a few years their silent, proud women grew slovenly and waspish, their resilient, self-sufficient men grew into brutish bullies or drunken sots. Even the children had internalized their low status growing bitter and misanthropic far too young. May didn’t want this for her child, her children.

Her mother had a high status within the clan –- even accounting for her eccentricities –- and had May ever considered it, she knew that her children -– if she ever had any -– would have been similarly secure in their place. Secure enough to follow her footsteps and become a rare female hunter, or her mother’s and become a widely respected trader and clan emissary, or forge their own and become a skilled weapons-smith or whatever they wanted.

Her focus shifted once more, to the presence as she attempted a fairly easy balancing exercise. Her body was different. Her center of gravity was slightly lower. Just slightly, had she not been quite as in-tune with her body as she was, she’d never had noticed it -– at least not this early. Her body **was** changing. Doctor Simmons had warned that balancing might grow more difficult, and her center of gravity would drop, but the difference between knowing and **knowing** was a large one.

May tested her limits, tested her balance -– like a child with a loose tooth –- poking incessantly at it with a macabre interest.

May was so intent upon exploring her body’s minute changes; she ignored her breakfast’s (and Coulson’s) arrival about a twelfthday later.

Coulson chided her stridently for ignoring her breakfast –- after ascertaining queasiness was not the culprit –- and fussed at her mercilessly until she ate half of it.

His paramount father-to-be duties completed, Coulson relapsed to his duties as a host.

He nattered on about nothing as May quickly changed for Hill’s session, and after May opened her room (she still flushed with power as she did so) he began slowly and clearly pointing out landmarks and directions to get from her room in ‘The Guest House’ to the gym in the rear crew garrison. May found it amusing that Coulson had (at least) two different modes of speech. He had his pointless babbling for when he just wanted to hear his own voice, and he had a very clear, informative mode for when he actually needed to communicate.

When he babbled, he spoke quickly and looked around, his body language more hunched and closed off. When he was truly trying to talk to her his eyes were firmly fixed upon her face and his body was more open, more expressive. His hands too; not that he didn’t gesticulate wildly when he babbled, but it was different somehow.

May stored away the content of Coulson’s lecture as she focused on deconstructing his modes of speech and what that might mean about his personality. His need to babble –- and joke -– and withdrawn mannerisms spoke to some sort of unmet need for attention. Like he wanted attention, but didn’t think he deserved it.

All too quickly, they reached the gym. Coulson greeted Hill and got May’s assurance she could find her own way back to The Guest House –- without wandering -– before bidding them adieu.

With only the briefest interlude of civilities –- which consisted of Hill awkwardly asking how May was doing -– Hill began warming up.

May rather appreciated Hill’s terse nature, as she had no desire to discuss her pregnancy with everyone –- but Hill was clearly aware of her situation. Her warm-up was more thorough than normal, and she restrained from the more balance-intensive kicking exercises.

Another amendment to their normal routine –- with Doctor Simmons’ fingerprints all over it –- was a snack and juice break.

May tried to be annoyed by her meddlesome interference, but Hill also snacked on the cut up root vegetables, and it gave May the opportunity to ask about The Man of Fire.

“Coulson say you know Man of Fire?”

Without fanfare or hubris, Hill confirmed Coulson’s story: “Yes. I knew the Man of Fire. I killed him. But not before he had the chance to kill Agent Quan.”

“Why?” May asked, fairly certain she knew the answer.

“’Cause power like that, unchecked by _morals_ , could not be allowed to continue.”

May nodded, Hill’s rationale seemed much like her own when she hunted the child-killing Tiger. She made a mental note to ask Coulson or Skye about the unfamiliar word later.

Hill called the snack break to a close and asked May to show her some Qigong.

May had never taught anyone anything –- let alone in another language! –- but Hill was both curious and did not care about how long it took May to try to find the words to correct her form. May did not even attempt to put the deeper aspects of channeling one’s Qi into words.

After the session, they scheduled another one two days hence.

May was able to find her way back to her room without trouble, and restrained herself from exploring on her first unescorted venture.

* * *

It wasn’t until the middle of the third of these one-on-one sessions, did May have the words (and the courage) to ask Hill about flying.

Of everyone she’d met in this crazy flying clan, Hill was most likely to be someone who would understand her visceral _need_ to fly –- well, maybe Coulson, but their relationship was too… complicated to risk. May felt that Hill’s laconic and demanding personality was much like hers, and as a Commander and monster-hunter, she should know.

“Do you fly?” May asked bluntly in between bites of _apple_.

Hill studied her over the rim of her water bottle before answering, “Yes.”

“Not just on the _helicarrier_?” May probed.

“Yes.”

Perhaps Hill’s curt nature wasn’t a virtue…

May took another bite of apple to think about how to proceed.

“Flying is fun?”

Hill quirked a small ¼ grin and answered more fully, “Yes, flying is a lot of fun. The freedom, the rush.”

A similarly small smile emerged on May’s lips.

Hill’s smile broadened to a ½ grin as she said, “Phil took you to the observation room.”

May nodded firmly, though it wasn’t really a question.

“And you liked it.”

Another firm nod to a non-question.

Hill hummed non-committally before asking with a gesture if May was done with her snack and ready to move on to Qigong.

May was a little disappointed by her bland response, but she was patient. She’d find out more about flying somehow. Her dreams demanded it.


	13. Chapter 13

Three seven-days after Doctor Simmons informed May that she was pregnant she had another important Doctor’s appointment. Both Skye and Coulson met her in the med-bay. The thrill of being able to exit her room and walk the now familiar section of corridor unaccompanied had not yet been dampened.

Doctor Simmons stood waiting in what May had begun to think of as _her_ exam room. There was a cart with a mysterious jumble of things and the Doctor was wearing large red-tinted glasses. In addition, she was sporting a huge grin –- looking for all the world like a young child who had just caught a huge frog and was proudly waiting to show it off to the whole clan.

Doctor Simmons waved May up onto the exam platform and went through the whole standard exam. It wasn’t until after Doctor Simmons had meticulously completed that task, did the purpose for her unusual eyewear and the cart become (somewhat) clear.

Doctor Simmons had May remove her trousers and asked her to lie back on the platform. Doctor Simmons then proceeded to spread this cold goop on May’s lower abdomen –- far lower than her stomach, just barely above her mound. When Doctor Simmons felt May was sufficiently slimy, she took this thick stick-like “transducer” from the cart and began rubbing it around on May’s abdomen and hmmming every so often and touching the side of her glasses.

Once she was done with whatever it was she did down there, she handed May some paper towels to clean up and uninformatively said, “Everything looks normal.”

Coulson nodded, like this meant something profound, and May didn’t want to seem stupid by asking _what_ looked normal and how Doctor Simmons could tell.

A far more informative -– and interesting –- procedure occurred next. Doctor Simmons pulled another hand-held stick-tool off of the cart and placed the cup-like end against May’s recently cleaned abdomen.

The thing emitted hissing sound then there was a loud wub and then Simmons’ look of concentration faded to a grin as a faint yet rapid lub-dub filled the room over the background of the hissing.

“That’s her heartbeat,” Coulson mused, awe-struck, “She’s gonna be a sprinter!”

Pedantically, Doctor Simmons corrected him, “We won’t be able to tell the sex of the fetus for another six weeks and the embryo’s heartbeat is actually on the low end of normal for its age, which is expected, due to Qiao-lin’s superb health and low resting heart rate.”

Coulson just grinned at May, who had heard and understood what they had said, but could not comprehend the fact that she was currently _listening to her baby’s heartbeat_! The sky-people’s magic would never not astound her.

Skye was pretty interested in the new procedure –- unlike the rote or obscured procedures prior -– and poked fun at “Phil’s goofy grin”.

This most beautiful sound was occasionally interrupted by a wub or a gurgle (which Doctor Simmons assured was perfectly normal), and after about a minute Doctor Simmons went to take the “Doppler” away.

In the sudden silence of the room, May protested, “No! Please?”

Coulson similarly protested, and as Doctor Simmons found their baby’s heartbeat again, they shared a small smile of shared embarrassment.

Eventually, Doctor Simmons grew tired of holding the stick against May’s womb and claimed that the embryo had moved away.

Coulson and May reluctantly nodded. Doctor Simmons cleaned up as May put her trousers back on.

This was clearly the end of the exam. Doctor Simmons reassured them that everything was perfectly normal and progressing smoothly and told May to contact her if she had any questions or unusual symptoms.

May fully expected to either be allowed to return to her room alone, or to be escorted back, but Coulson had other plans. He stopped her by the med-bay doors and tugged at his shirt-garment with nervousness. He cleared his throat once or twice before beginning, “Your pregnancy is now double-confirmed; it’s now time to fill out the legal documents.”

May raised one eyebrow in question.

“It is time to work out how long you will stay and all that. Officially.”

Coulson stood waiting, so May nodded, once, firmly. He smiled, relieved.

The whole retinue –- yes, even Doctor Simmons –- left the med-bay and Coulson led them to yet another new part of the helicarrier.

Coulson thumbed open a new room and May was surprised to note three people already waiting within.

The room itself was large -– larger than May’s room –- and contained one huge table with a dozen chairs around it. The three people were clustered at the end of the table furthest from the door and were an odd assortment. There was a large dark-brown skinned man without any hair and an eye patch. _Given the sky-people's magic, couldn’t he just make a new eye?_

There was another pale-skinned man with silver and black hair wearing the complicated many-garment ‘suit’ that Coulson favored. The third person was a pale woman with dark hair with **blue** stripes in it. _The sky-people truly come in many colors._

The dark-brown man gestured for them to sit.

Coulson pulled out a chair at the end and gestured May into it. Skye and Coulson took chairs flanking her -– a gesture that felt more protective than constricting -– while Doctor Simmons sat alone in the center of the huge table.

Coulson introduced May to all the new people and introduced the new people to May. The dark-brown man was Nicholas Fury, the Director of the Guest House Repopulation Program. The blue-haired woman was Victoria Hand, Assistant Director, and the pale man was Felix Blake, Legal Aide (whatever those titles meant).

After introductions, Doctor Simmons presented her nigh-incomprehensible data confirming May’s physical and genetic health and her pregnancy. The three new people nodded as if they understood, and dismissed her with their surface-level thanks.

Doctor Simmons squeezed May’s shoulder on her way out. It was intended as a comforting gesture but May was bothered at all of the concern they were exhibiting.

Once Doctor Simmons was gone, the focus of the three new people was solely on May.

The blue-haired woman began the interrogation by saying, “We understand that you’ve picked up a great deal of our language, but we’re going to have Skye translate just to ensure there is no miscommunication.”

Which Skye dutifully translated.

She seemed to be waiting for some sort of response, so May nodded.

“I understand you’ve been on the helicarrier 103 days?”

May shrugged. She hadn’t counted.

Coulson answered in the affirmative for her.

“And you’re 34 days along?”

May nodded.

“Phil says you’ve been adapting well.”

May shrugged, she had nothing to compare it to.

“Maria says you’re quite skilled at Qigong and you’re a fast learner when it comes to Jiu-jitsu.”

A grin escaped from May’s control and tugged at her lips.

Hand switched directions, “What did you use to do? Down there?”

May took a moment to weigh her options and decided on a limited truth, “I hunt. I trap.”

“Yes?” Hand asked for an elaboration.

May switched to her tongue, “I hunted for my clan. Many deer: Sambar, wapiti, muntjac, antelope too. And feral pigs, goats, cattle. In winter I set traps. My rabbits, jerboas, zokors, and civets might be small, but they kept us fed.”

She watched Coulson’s reaction to Skye’s translation closely. He looked aside and turned pink. May wondered what was going on in his head. She had left out her least feminine and most dangerous activities like hunting and/or scaring off feral dogs and killing the rare and child-killing tiger.

Hand, however, was fairly easy to read, she hmmmed and looked satisfied, like a small puzzle had been solved.

“So you would like to return home before you are too old to continue your chosen profession?” Hand asked.

May shrugged. She hadn’t thought about it in those terms.

Hand nodded and silently handed off the floor to the pale Felix Blake.

The man awkwardly cleared his throat and then began, “Your genetic health profile is within the 95th percentile which opens up a few additional options for you. In addition to the standard two full-term pregnancies –- by which I mean pregnancies lasting at least 18 weeks from AI regardless of outcome -– you have the option of one pregnancy and then hyperstimulated oocyte retrieval.”

This time May really did need Skye’s translation and _still_ did not fully understand what the man was talking about.

“Egg collection?” she asked.

Blake grumped that Doctor Simmons was no longer in the room until Coulson attempted an explanation.

“Doctor Simmons would give you several hormone shots to make your body ripen many eggs. She would then stick a needle in you and suck out the ripened eggs. It is more painful than the artificial insemination but less painful than birth -– or so I’ve been told. She would then take your eggs, mix them with the essences of several healthy fathers and give them to women who want to be mothers but cannot have their own.” He added on a personal note, “My mother and father did this.”

May withheld a grimace at Coulson’s explanation. As much as she wanted to get back to her clan and her mother, she disliked the idea of not having any control over her children’s lives, at just abandoning them to the sky-people.

The room was still. Waiting on her.

May shook her head.

“Very well,” Blake said, “Now the next order of business: post-birth custody agreements.”

“The fastest option is that the father gets full custody of the infant immediately after birth. It will be raised by him –- with the help of childcare professionals and the crèche system. The mother will wait 6 months –- or longer if medically required –- until a second round of AI is initiated. The father will get custody over the second infant immediately after birth as well. The mother will be returned to the exact geographical location she was removed from -– or a slightly different location to account for nomadic drift –- 3 months after the second birth, or longer if medically required. The average dwell time for this option is three years. There are various standard amendments to account for miscarriage, stillbirth, and twins, but I won’t get into those right now unless you want.”

May shook her head and focused on processing Skye’s translation. Her tendency of translating the gist of the conversation instead of the precise words was helpful, for once.

“The most common option is that the mother gets full custody of the first infant for the first 12 to 60 months post-birth. She will also have the option to receive aid from childcare professionals and crèche system. Twenty-four months after the first birth, a second round of AI will be initiated. The father will get joint custody of the first child when it is between 1 and 5 years and the child will begin day schooling at age 5. A similar or reduced full maternal custody period for the second child is common. Twenty-four to 60 months after the second birth the mother will be returned home. The average dwell time for this option with the 24-month post-second-birth interval is six years. There are various amendments to account for miscarriage, twins, maternal neglect, and paternal death but I won’t get into those.”

“The maximal maternal control option is that the mother gets full custody of the children until they turn twelve, with the conditions that they must interact with other children at the crèche a minimum of two times a month starting at age 3, they must begin standard day schooling at age 5, and the father gets a minimum of four crèche-supervised visits a year. Twenty-four months after the first birth, a second round of AI will be initiated. When the children turn twelve they will move into school housing with their peers. This option is mostly chosen by women who do not wish to return home.”

“Additional items typically discussed during these meetings are pass-pad activation –- which I’m told has already happened –- moving into family housing, and occupational options.”

“You will move into family housing at the beginning of your second trimester, or in about seven weeks. We like to cluster ethnic or linguistic groups, but this helicarrier doesn’t have many Han Chinese, and you’ve picked up our language fairly well, so unless you have objections, we’ll place you with several women from the Pacific-American region. They have a dialect similar to our language and some of their ethnic genotypes are similar to yours.”

“Your new family housing will have an activated pass-pad, which I do not need to explain is a privilege not a right. And once you’ve settled in you have the option -- not obligation -– to take up some work. Such as working in the crèche or…”

“Or teaching Qigong classes,” Hand interrupted.

Blake blinked at the interruption and then nodded. A piece of _paper_ magically appeared in his hands, which he slid down the table to May.

It had bizarre pictures of babies, moons, mothers, men and huts.

“This sheet will remind you of the four options discussed here today. You will have four weeks to ask questions before you make your final decision,” Blake explained.

May examined the paper interestedly. It seemed to be divided by rows instead of columns and told a story in a left-to-right manner. The first row had a baby, then a man holding a baby, followed by three full moons, a picture of a syringe, a full moon, and then a depiction of a hut. That must be how the sky people depicted the egg collection option.

The next row had a baby, then a man holding a baby, followed by six full moons, a baby, a man holding a baby and a toddler, three full moons, and then a depiction of a hut.

The third row had a baby, a mother holding a baby, two sets of twelve full moons, a man and woman with a toddler in between, another baby, two sets of twelve full moons, and then the hut.

The fourth row had a baby, a mother holding a baby, two sets of twelve full moons, another baby, a mother holding a baby and a toddler, twelve sets of full moons, and then a mother alone.

The sky-people had a very inefficient writing process –- not that May knew many characters of her language as she had little patience with sitting still and learning ancient arts -– but still, how did they depict abstract notions?

Coulson coughed -– one of those false attention-seeking coughs –- and May looked up from the sheet. Everyone else had left while she was studying it. The Director Nicholas Fury hadn’t said a word, after the introductions.

As Coulson led her back to known corridors, he asked, “So, what do you think?”

May shrugged, she was still thinking.

“Talk to you tomorrow?” He asked tentatively.

May nodded with a hint of a smile at his timidity.

He grinned back broadly.

_Perhaps Skye was right, he **did** have a rather ‘goofy’ grin._


	14. Chapter 14

May went back to her room and placed the pictograph paper on her table before changing into a more supportive bra and beginning some Qigong exercises.

Qigong was a constant in her rapidly changing world –- a world full of things she’d not been able to even dream about just four months prior. A world full of helicarriers, artificial insemination, chocolate, pass-pads, monster-hunters, and hyperstimulated oocyte retrieval.

She refocused her efforts on breathing.

In. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu_. Hold. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._ Out. _Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu._

Eventually she felt balanced enough to actually consider the various options before her and their implications. Even with the fastest option, it would be years before she returned home. Her mother wasn’t a young swan anymore. She’d seen more than 40 winters and each winter could be her last. Her uncle was even older, and it was simply miraculous that her grandmother had lived to see 65 winters. She had friends -– Weiyin and her husband to name two –- but her biggest draw home was her mother, and of course her sovereignty.

May paused mid-exercise and placed her hand on the non-existent swell of her womb. She needed to compare her obligations to her mother and her responsibility to her baby –- babies. The dueling bonds of filial piety weighed on her. She returned to her interrupted exercise, mind still heavy.

Her decision weighed on her for the rest of the day, and never did she so strongly wish to talk to her Grandmother. She would know the right path.  She would know exactly what questions to ask to make May’s own heart known to her.

As May drifted to sleep, her mind was still turning over and over, weighing her responsibilities and desires.

She dreamt of returning home –- the clan was in its early summer camp close to the rich supply of seabird eggs and spawning fish. She walked through the clan. She could not find her mother. Everyone stared at her as if she was a ghost. Even Weiyin looked away. She was wearing Hill's dark blue skin-tight garment; her stomach was flat. She felt empty.

* * *

As promised, Coulson came by the next day with breakfast.

Whether it was residual anxiety from last night’s dream, or the onset of the dreaded morning sickness, the smell of the eggs turned May’s stomach.

May clamped her will down on her stomach and managed to eat the toast and fruit portions of her breakfast.

Her uncontrollable grimace after Coulson urged her to eat the eggs told all, and he quickly removed the offending foodstuffs.

He asked ingratiatingly, “Can I get you anything else? More toast? Porridge? Fruit?”

May shook her head. She was master of her own stomach.

Coulson fidgeted with his dark blue over-shirt garment for a while, obviously working up the courage to say something.

May was content to sit in silence –- for a moment or two –- before she prodded him, “What now?”

He gave her a pain-masking smile, “Sorry about yesterday.”

May deliberately misinterpreted him, “Hearing heart of baby very nice.”

“Yes, it was, wasn’t it; but, no, I mean Hand and Blake and the _legalese_.”

May smirked; it was fun to poke at Coulson.

Coulson blinked in clear confusion over May’s reaction before adding, “Oh.”

“Sky-people have strange customs,” May said, as a way of apologizing for waylaying the conversation.

“Right. Uh yes, I suppose we do. And our love of legal contracts is only one of them. I just wanted to say that you should choose whichever option you are most comfortable with, your -– our -– children will be safe and loved whatever you choose.”

May caught Coulson’s surreptitious glance at her stomach, and only then did she realize she had laid one hand protectively over her womb. She quickly removed it, ashamed of her unconscious tell.

Hearing her baby’s heartbeat and the being told in impersonal, punctilious tones the precise duration and extent of her possible maternal duties had certainly done a number on her natural restraint.

The room –- her room -– was heavy with silence.

Unprompted, Coulson broke the silence, changing the topic, “I’m sorry about Hand’s questions about your past.”

May shrugged, the past was the past.

After another moment of silence Coulson added, “I’m sorry I haven’t asked about your family and past.”

May was silent.

“I know I have no right to your past. We took you, and your children, without your say-so, and you have a right to all your secrets. But if you want to tell me about your family, and the life you’ve left behind, I’d be honored to hear it.”

“Uh, I mean I’ve told you a bit about me, and we are having a baby together…” Coulson babbled, until he petered out.

May shrugged, silent.

“Right, sorry for pestering you,” Coulson replied and gathered himself up to leave.

May –- surprising herself -– realized she didn’t want him to leave, “I have mother and mother’s brother. Mother’s mother is gone. No father, never father.”

Coulson smiled in pitiable gratitude, “And you’re a hunter?”

May nodded, unable to completely mask her grin of pride.

“No wonder you’re such a menace when you’re bored.”

May didn’t know how to respond to that.

Coulson chattered onward, “I mean, hunters are quite self-reliant, and there is nothing quite like the confidence you get from knowing you can take care of yourself, knowing what exactly you can do, knowing your limits…”

May listened interestedly to Coulson’s analytical prattle. She hadn’t ever though about her self-confidence or anything like that. She didn’t exactly agree with what he was saying, but nor did she exactly disagree.

Eventually he ran out of words and she quirked her eyebrow at him. He turned pink –- a very interesting response.

“I told you about Chan Ho-Yin, would you like to return the favor and tell me a story of one of your hunts? I’d be quite appreciative.”

May mulled over his request, and grabbed an apple from her stash to occupy her hands with. Coulson did seem genuinely interested, admiring, and even understanding. It was the last thing that swayed her.

“Several winters ago a hungry-crazy Tiger come to the clan. He eat small child playing alone. Many hunters go after him. Never find him. Find tiger-spore, but never Tiger. I go. I go quiet. I find. I kill. I return with skin. They cheer. I frown. They cheer more. I hide.”

“A tiger? Really?” Coulson asked voice laden with awe.

May looked away, “I kill beautiful animal; just hungry-crazy. No cheer needed. No cheer wanted.”

Coulson nodded, eyes glistening, like he really did understand. He reached his hand out towards her, but aborted, placing his hand on the tabletop instead.

They were silent. The silence was neither heavy nor awkward.

May began eating the fruit she’d been playing with.

As she ate she caught Coulson sneaking furtive glances at her. She would have felt more awkward, but she got a sense that he respected her lack of desire for acclaim as much or more than he respected her deeds.

Eventually Coulson ended the silent period with a faux-cough, “Well, thank you for your disclosure. Your trust honors me so. I’ve got to go now, but if you don’t mind, I’ll be back later.”

He waited, expectant.

May was quiet, thinking, he continued, “But you don’t have to agree. You can tell me to get lost too. This much contact between guest-mother and host-father is… atypical.”

May nodded, for some reason she didn’t find his blathering irksome, “See you soon.”

Coulson grinned and left.

May stayed sitting, thinking. Now that she had a bit more freedom, and she had twice-weekly sessions with Hill, she didn’t really need Coulson to keep the boredom at bay, but his presence was not unpleasant. She didn’t care what was normal for the sky-people and their bizarre methods of reproducing, all she cared about was the fact that she’d rather enjoy going to the garden with Coulson again, or the observation room, or even just sharing an unremarkable meal. _Whatever that actually meant._

Time for some more Qigong.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is pranking and bonding.

Three days after May’s trip to hear her child’s heartbeat and be told the limits of her maternal duties in the coldest manner conceivable, she had another session with Hill.

May was looking forward to the session itself, but was afraid that Hill would make some mention of the legal situations and her opinion on the options –- like Skye had. She liked Hill, but she was a private person and disliked all and sundry commenting on her current state and limited future.

Her worries were for naught. Hill made no mention of her pregnancy but for the snack break and regular checks that the exercises ‘worked’ for her.

After the Qigong portion of the session -– which was going more smoothly now that May felt more comfortable giving commands, or perhaps May was more comfortable giving Hill commands because it was going more smoothly –- Hill said she had something she wanted to show May. They cooled down and clean up, then Hill led her to a new part of the helicarrier –- relatively close to The Guest House but on a different level than she’d been before.

May had known the helicarrier was massive but the more time she spent on it, the more she realized just how extensive it was.

Hill thumbed open an extra-wide doorway that led to a broad hallway with a grassy/furred floor. The lightning in this area was less bright-yellow and more diffuse-white. There were a few regularly-spaced open room-sized areas with couches and chairs and televisions along the hallway and many closed doors.

A few people walked the hallway and a few of those nodded at Hill. Hill nodded back. Some of them looked oddly at May, but she followed Hill silently.

Near the end of the long hallway, Hill thumbed open another door and waved May in before promptly pulling the door closed behind them.

The door was to a living area. Hill motioned May to follow her into another room and May had only a bit of time to glance around the large front room. There was a dilapidated and discolored blue couch, a television, and shelves and shelves of _things_. A large brightly colored picture beside the television caught her eye. It was of a shadowed form holding a large red, white, and blue shield. There were decorative black markings on the top and bottom.

The other room was a bedroom, and there was a slightly battered shield hanging above the large bed. It looked the same as the one in the picture. The bedskins were blue too.

“What?” May asked.

Hill shushed her with a gesture and then pulled a small bag out from her thigh pocket. From the bag she removed several floppy fake spiders and handed them to May.

They jiggled rather disconcertingly in her hand.

“Put the spiders under the duvet, in the bedclothes, I’ll be back in a wink,” she whispered.

May was exceedingly puzzled, but carefully lifted the bedskins and scattered the wiggly fake spiders about, one on top of the pillow, one just underneath the top bedskin, and one in a crease in the top bedskin. She smoothed and wrinkled the covers to make the bed look the same as it had before she had disrupted it.

She stole a moment to look around the room. In addition to the bed, there was the door to the main room, the door Hill had disappeared into, a large wooden object, and a small table beside the bed. The bedside table was covered with objects of unknown purpose, except for a small palm-sized picture. There was a little boy of maybe seven, with his mother and father. It appeared that they were in the garden, by an apple or cherry tree in bloom. All three glowed with happiness, the father and son’s eyes the same clear shade of blue -– like many of the sky-people’s.

That joy, that happiness is what May wanted for her child. She rubbed her hand over her still-flat stomach.

“Done?” whispered Hill from right behind her.

May just barely stopped herself from jumping in surprise. She really had let her situational awareness deteriorate while up here.

She nodded in answer to Hill’s question.

“Good,” Hill whispered, motioning them out of the room.

May’s quick glance around the main room revealed several other closed doors, an eating area, and an odd shiny area near the eating area.

Once they were in the relative safety of the hallway, Hill broke down into giggles.

May cocked an eyebrow at her questioningly.

It only took a few seconds for Hill to regain control over herself and resume her unflappable mien.

“Thank you May, for your invaluable assistance.”

May’s eyebrow remained raised.

“You see, Phil and I are in the middle of a _prank_ war, and you just helped me kick his ass.”

“Spiders?” May asked, unfamiliar with how fake spiders could have anything to do with battle stratagems.

“Ah, but the spiders-in-the-bed prank is predictable, boring. When Phil sees I’ve entered his rooms he’ll be on alert. Once he finds the spiders, he’ll relax, and then I’ll show him. His guard will be lowered for the real prank.”

Hill paused, waiting for May’s response, so she obliged, “Prank?”

“One of the tech-wizzes whipped up this little beauty of a water-bomb. In the middle of the night it’ll go off and start dripping slowly in his bathroom. He’ll think a pipe’s burst and will have to scramble the repair teams in the middle of the night or during rest-day.”

May didn’t really understand many of the words Hill used, but actually rather liked the fact that she didn’t try hard to use simple terms, didn’t treat her any differently. Then she realized that those had been ‘Phil’s’ rooms, Coulson’s rooms.

“Phil?” May asked, hoping she was mistaken.

“Yes; Phil, Coulson.”

She wasn’t mistaken. She _had_ just been in Coulson’s bedroom, had just planted fake spiders in a childish war of fox-tricks. She wanted to hide her face in her hands, but didn’t want to draw undue attention to herself.

Whatever small reaction she did have, was enough to alert Hill, who reassured her, “It is just a bit of fun. No one will be harmed by it.”

May rolled her eyes, _just a bit of fun indeed_.

The rest of the trip from Coulson’s rooms to May’s was silent. Hill didn’t seem to like May’s silent admonishment, and May was trying to remember all that she could of Coulson’s rooms. She wished she had known before she had entered to be able to see if it was a fit place to raise her children. At least she now knew that he had had a happy childhood, and that the garden had been part of that. At least she now knew he would be likely to share that place with their children.

After a silent goodbye, May found herself wondering about the meaning of the man with the red, white, and blue shield. He appeared to be important to Coulson.


	16. Chapter 16

May never found out if Hill’s prank worked as planned or not, as the next day Coulson left a message with Skye that he had to ‘go away’ for a few days -– to do his very important job Skye added unnecessarily -– and he never mentioned a sleepless night or anything related to the prank later. Also, May was reluctant to bring the topic up with Hill since she’d been so tetchy. Their –- dare she say -– friendship was still a bit fragile.

When Coulson returned he made quite an entrance; he knocked on her door midday 5 days after he left. He wore a dark purple bruise along his jaw and he carried a large basket.

“You are hurt,” May said in lieu of a greeting.

“It’s nothing. Just got into a bit of a fight with a tree,” Coulson replied, but the way he held himself –- stiffly erect, as if he had hurt his ribs – exposed his lie.

Oddly, May was torn between unmasking his injures to make sure they weren’t too severe, and chiding him for getting hurt in the first place. She did neither of these options. Instead, she nodded at the basket in inquiry.

Coulson grinned –- perhaps he was glad she didn’t call him on his lie –- and said, “It’s a surprise. But right now I need to apologize.”

May quirked her eyebrow.

“I’m sorry for disappearing on you with just a second-hand message. Something came up and I couldn’t say no.”

May shrugged, it wasn’t as if they had even had anything concrete planned. They rarely had anything concrete planned; Coulson would just pop by whenever, usually bearing gifts of food of some form or another, and then pop out whenever. May didn’t really mind. He had important things to do; she only had twice-weekly sessions with Hill and a baby to grow.

“So you accept my apology?” Coulson almost pleaded.

May nodded. He was surprisingly childlike sometimes.

Coulson grinned, “Excellent. Then I suppose we should get going.”

May quirked her eyebrow inquiringly as she turned off the television and grabbed a light jacket. She’d been getting colder recently, an atypical but not worrying side effect of her pregnancy, Doctor Simmons had said.

“You’ll see soon,” Coulson said with a smile, attempting to be all mysterious.

May internally shrugged and followed Coulson through the winding hallways of the helicarrier. She had had her suspicions from the beginning, but as they neared a vaguely familiar hallway, she grew certain, and excited. Coulson **was** taking them back to the observation room.

The observation room was somewhat less exhilarating than last time –- the helicarrier was over an ocean and the windows were full of nothing but two-toned blue –- but that was okay as Coulson unpacked his basket to reveal a cornucopia of foodstuffs.

There was a tomato-cheese-and-basil salad, strawberries, cut veggies with bean-paste, odd little rice-balls, some cylindrical sandwiches, and two glass containers of a bubbly yellow drink.

He laid the spread out on a bedskin on the floor in front of the windows and gingerly sat himself down on the floor beside it. He really must have injured his ribs.

May did not bother to hide her puzzlement of the layout. Just when she had thought she’d figured out the sky-people’s bizarre customs…

Coulson waved her down to the floor and handed her a rice-ball on a tiny stick. May took the proffered snack and tried it out of politeness. Inside the crispy crust it was a smooth and creamy with a rich smoky-tangy cheese-taste.

May made an appreciative murmur, the innocuous rice ball was actually pretty good.

Coulson smiled and then handed her a clear rectangle full of the tomato-cheese-and-basil salad. This too was tasty. The tang of the tomato slices and the sauce contrasted nicely with the almost too simple creaminess of the cheese, and the basil added a brightness and complexity.

May had only had three bites of the salad when Coulson offered her a piece of flat bread and the bean-paste. The paste was nice and smooth but tasted too much of the aromatic ‘garlic’ spice the sky-people loved too much.

It was then that May noticed that Coulson had been so eager about forcing food on her that he hadn’t eaten anything himself.

She placed the container of garlic-y bean paste on the bedskin and prompted, “You need to eat.”

Coulson grinned self-consciously and replied, “Yes, yes, you’re right. I do need to eat too.”

May grabbed another cheesy-rice-ball before he decided to foist something else on her. They were really quite good. Coulson dipped a handful of carrot sticks into the bean-paste and munched while gazing out the window. This gave May an unparalleled view of his bruised jaw.

She ate a half-dozen more of those rice-balls, her gaze oscillating between Coulson and the breath-taking view of the sea. Daringly, she wiped a bit of grease off on her trousers and delicately ran her fingers along his jaw, just above the dark purple bruise.

Coulson jumped –- out of surprise, not pain –- and grabbed her wrist tightly before blinking twice and releasing her.

“How?” May asked before he could start his own line of questioning –- a line of questioning she’d not be able to answer easily.

“My job.”

May rolled her eyes. That much was self-evident.

Coulson snorted, “I really shouldn’t have introduced you to Maria.”

“How?” she asked again.

“Like I said before, I got into a bit of a fight with a tree.”

May stared at him. At his clear blue eyes, broad, wise forehead, and battered, strong jaw.

In a battle of silent wills, May would **always** win.

After a few minutes Coulson sighed, “In the far north there are some extra-strong people. One of these extra-strong people went mad this winter. Why, I don’t know. Another team on another helicarrier found out about him and went to subdue him. They failed. They called for help, and we were the closest.”

May filed away the information that there was more than one helicarrier with interest.

Coulson paused before continuing, “He threw a tree at my head. Hunter  _crossed him off_.”

May murmured in what she hoped was a comforting manner but her mind was some place else, some _when_ else.

Coulson shrugged, repacking the unpleasant recollection with practiced ease. He handed May a cylindrical sandwich before taking one for himself.

The sandwich was fine, but insufficient to distract May from her distressing thoughts.

As May was tumbling down the vertex of painful ‘what-ifs,’ Coulson opened one of the beverage containers with an odd _hisssss_.

May was called back to the present by a second hiss and a half-heard question.

She took the proffered cold and slick container and watched Coulson drink from the narrow neck before following suit. It was cold and tingling and biting and sweet and extraordinary.

“What?” May asked, delighted.

“It’s fizzy lemonade; good isn’t it?”

“Fizzy lemonade very good,” May agreed.

May finished her ‘wrap’ interspersed with sips of the sweet-and-sour beverage that tickled her nose.

When she was done –- and Coulson had finished two sandwiches -– she asked bluntly, “Your job is dangerous.”

Coulson agreed, “Yes?”

“Our babies…?” May didn’t know how to put her fears and concerns into words.

“Yes,” Coulson answered with a sigh, thankfully understanding what it was she was really asking.

He grabbed a rice ball and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly.

May was patient.

He swallowed and began, “If I die, the crèche system is perfectly able to take care of our children. It will be quite adequate for their every need.”

That’s exactly what every mother wants to hear, that her children will be taken care of ‘adequately.’

May made a moue of distaste.

Coulson grimaced slightly in sympathy, “But Maria has already volunteered to act _in loco parentis_. Her job’s no safer than mine, but…”

Coulson petered off, and in the silence May asked, “in loco parent-titus?”

“To take care of them as if they were her own.”

May mulled that option over while finishing her lemonade. Maria reminded her of her own mother. She would be an acceptable parental substitute.

May nodded in approval before grabbing the last cheesy-rice-ball.

“You like the smoked gouda risotto balls?” Coulson asked.

May nodded, pleased with the change in conversation.

“I made them myself,” Coulson began, and then proceeded to ramble animatedly about food and cooking, filling the awkward and slightly pained silence with noise.


	17. Chapter 17

Seven weeks after the final, successful, round of artificial fertilization, May finally really felt sick. It was as if everything Doctor Simmons warned her about hit all at once in full force. She couldn’t keep anything down for the first few hours of the day and everything with a faintly ‘greasy’ smell sent her stomach churning regardless of the hour. She was utterly exhausted -– not only because of the frequent midnight trips to the bathroom, but because she had a little baby literally sucking the life out of her -– and if these things weren’t enough, she was feeling extra irritable. Whether the irritability was because of the cumulative effect of all those annoyances or if her fluctuating pregnancy hormones played a part was an academic distinction left only for Doctor Simmons to mull over.

May was annoyed at the television when it didn’t have anything good on. She was annoyed when Skye showed up. She was irritated when Coulson showed up with food. She was irritated when he didn’t show up. She was annoyed with the shower if it took too long to heat up. She was annoyed by her always-full bladder.

She was just plain irritated.

All of these irritations paled in comparison to her irritation with herself when, between her shifting center of mass and utter exhaustion, she just wasn’t able to continue learning jiu-jitsu from Maria.

She wanted to, badly, but she just couldn’t.

Maria took this setback with considerably more equanimity -– then again she didn’t have to deal with all of the mood swings _and_ a rioting stomach –- and suggested she had another idea for something they could do.

May -– rendered perpetually grumpy –- was less than sanguine that she’d enjoy this alternate activity but agreed to a change of plans for their next session. She was resigned to switching to meditation or something less strenuous, and less fun. She just hoped Maria didn’t have any more plans for childish pranks.

For their next session, they had agreed that Maria would swing by May’s room and bring her to a new meeting place.

She semi-resentfully memorized the route but was simply flabbergasted when Maria opened the door to the new meeting place and revealed a tiny room with two chairs, three huge screens, and a million buttons, knobs, and thingamajigs.

She looked at Maria questioningly, this was not a meditation chamber, but she only grinned widely in response. Maria proceeded to push some buttons and flip some switches until all the other buttons lit up and the screens turned on revealing an image of a flat stretch of godsbone and a perfect blue sky.

May was more than slightly confused, but also far more hopeful.

Maria gestured her into the right-hand seat while she took the left-hand one. Once both were seated, the two chairs glided forward, nesting right up against the array of _things_.

Still silent, still grinning madly, Maria’s fingers began dancing over the array, pushing more buttons, toggling more switches. Red and yellow lights on the board turned green.

May was mesmerized by Maria’s fingers. She didn’t quite know what was going on but she knew this was **vital**.

Maria toggled a doohickey and the whole small room jolted slightly.

May looked around with a touch of concern, but apparently this was expected.

Maria pulled down a four-pronged object, flipped two more switches, and nudged a large lever-thingy.

Both the image on the screens and the small room itself moved, telegraphing forward motion.

May watched enraptured as they raced down the flat stretch of godsbone and then nosed upward, leaving the godsbone plain behind. She clutched at the padded chair even though she knew her eyes and body were telling her an untruth, she was still in the helicarrier.

On some levels she was terrified, on others thrilled.

After a few twists and banks they were _there_ –- flying -– devouring fields and hills, soaring through clouds and empty air.

May leaned forward splitting her attention between the glorious view and the subtle movements Maria used to keep them there.

“Wow…” she murmured.

Maria glanced over and smiled softly –- not the wide, brassy grin of kept secrets and superiority, but a softer grin of shared enjoyment.

The trees beneath them grew smaller, fainter, and bluer, and eventually Maria typed in some symbols, pressed a few buttons, and pushed the four-pronged thing back up.

She turned to face May, who reluctantly tore her eyes from the cloud-bedecked view.

“I knew you’d like it,” Maria gloated goodheartedly.

May smiled in response.

“Would you like to learn to fly?” Maria asked.

May nodded fiercely, “Yes yes yes yes yes.”

Maria grinned gloatingly again.

May gave her moment of glory before prompting, “Yes?”

Maria began explaining the functions of the ‘yoke’ –- the four-pronged thing -– and the ‘throttle’ -– the large central lever-thing -– before moving on to other buttons and switches.

By the time their 90-minute session had come to an end, May’s brain had been filled to the brim several times over. She had always been quick -– learning various animal spores and tracks without having to be told more than once -– but there were way too many alien things to learn that she had little-to-no context for.

She muzzy-headedly watched Maria land the ‘quinjet simulator’ and joyfully got her agreement for another session at the normal time next week.

Next time, she’d be prepared and could show Maria how fast of a learner she really could be.

* * *

Over the next few days she recited various foreign terms like _primary flight display_ , _mode control panel_ , _altitude director indicator_ , and _primary navigation display_ over and over ingraining the odd words on her tongue and their magical functions in her brain.

Her flying dreams became more bizarre –- some nights she be flying on the back of a crane, some in a cockpit, and other nights the crane would have a yoke and throttle coming out of its back -– and more frequent. Between the odd dreams and her memorization fervor, it was almost enough to distract her from how awful her pregnancy was making her feel. _Almost_.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for miscarriage/assumed miscarriage

The next few sessions with Maria were focused on learning the instrumentation of the flight deck. Maria didn’t even take them up in the simulated quintet, but May was excited nevertheless; she was getting closer and closer to being able to **fly**!

* * *

One morning, almost nine weeks after the successful AI session, May noticed a bit of blood on her undergarments.

She attempted to leave her rooms to go to the med-bay.

But the pass-pad would not let her out.

She pounded frantically on the door.

She pounded frantically on the pass-pad.

Nothing happened.

After maybe five or ten minutes her perennial exhaustion and apathy overcame her panic.

_Why should I even care about the wellbeing of_ _this invader they inflicted upon me_ _if they won’t even let me go to the doctor?!_

In the five additional minutes until a pair of guards came by to figure out the issue, May had worked herself into such a knotted mass of anger, frustration, and helplessness, logic no longer ruled her mind.

With five easy moves she knocked out one of the guards and left the other curled up on her floor with a crushed foot and a broken nose.

She stormed through the halls to the med-bay like an enraged tiger and ‘informed’ Doctor Simmons of the issue -– if such a benign word could be used to describe the downright menacing way she conveyed the information.

Doctor Simmons wisely abandoned her current patient and did a quick but thorough check.

As May silently followed Simmons’ instructions -– to roll up her sleeves for a blood-draw and get up on the exam table for an examination -– she watched more (able-bodied) guards trickle into the med-bay. Still anger and frustration ruled supreme over level-headedness and May was prepared to fight them _all_ if that’s what it took to see Doctor Simmons.

Relief clearly evident on her face, Doctor Simmons informed May that her baby was fine -– its heartbeat was normal and her hormones were fine. Doctor Simmons went on to say that is was likely only a bit of breakthrough bleeding and as long as it was light and went away in a day or two, there was nothing to worry about.

Still May was worried. However, after Doctor Simmons told her her baby was okay, May took her hands off of her stomach, nodded at the now seven strong band of guards, and held her arms out in a non-threatening manner.

One guard –- a tall, slender, dark-skinned man with interesting facial hair -– shook his head and gestured for her to stay put.

Sooner rather than later, an out-of-breath Coulson hurried into the med-bay and crisply commanded, “What happened?”

May, Doctor Simmons, and the apparently head guard all attempted to answer at once.

“Door…”

“… took down…”

“… a miscarriage.”

“One at a time,” he commanded, adding with a touch of hysteria only someone who knew him well would be able to detect, “Miscarriage?”

Doctor Simmons answered, “Your baby is fine, it was just a bit of spotting, not a miscarriage.”

“May?” he asked.

“The door wouldn’t open,” she replied, as if that was a complete answer.

Coulson worked his way through the crowd of guards, “Are you okay?”

May shrugged. It was an impossible question to answer at the moment.

“Do you have anything to add?” he addressed the guard.

“She took down two of our guys.”

Coulson nodded once –- signifying that he’d heard the man -– and then ordered, “Dismissed.”

One of the guards looked like they wished to argue, but the dark-skinned guard stopped him and gestured them all out of the med-bay.

May slumped back down onto the exam table, all of her adrenaline having left her at once.

Coulson teleported the seven strides to May’s side.

“Are you okay?” Coulson asked, just in time for Doctor Simmons to check her blood pressure and heart rate, assure herself that her patient was a good as could be expected, reassure Coulson, and return to her previous patient.

“Are you okay?” Coulson asked May.

“I saw blood.”

“I’m so sorry the door wouldn’t open. It’s all my fault. You proved yourself trustworthy enough for an independent pass-pad weeks ago and I just forgot to turn in the paperwork.”

May was too tired to do more than quirk her eyebrow in acknowledgement not acceptance.

“How are you?” he asked a fourth time.

“Tired.”

Coulson nodded firmly, “Do you want me to walk you back to your room, or to you want to hang with me for awhile?”

May half-heartedly shrugged. She didn’t really want to be trapped in her room, alone.

Coulson waited for a more concrete answer.

“How long for door?” May asked in lieu of said concrete answer.

“I can fill out the paperwork right now if you’d like?”

May nodded and accepted his arm, and his assistance, as they walked to yet another foreign area of the helicarrier.

Coulson thumbed open a small room and indicated one of the two mauve cushioned chairs within.

May settled into it –- being more bone-tired than she’d ever remembered being before -– and passively observed the rest of the room.

Coulson sat in the other chair with a large black table between them. On the top of the table was a small metal case with an image of the same red, white, and blue shield-carrying man that May had seen in his living quarters. In addition, there were a few sheets of paper, but Coulson did not do anything with those. Instead he pushed an invisible button and a large semi-transparent screen appeared.

He poked the air where the screen appeared and began to insert various symbols. May now knew these symbols were how the sky-people truly wrote as Maria was teaching her the symbols for numbers for the flight simulator. May was still a very long way from actually knowing what it was that Coulson was writing so she glanced around the rest of the room. There was nothing interesting or the least bit personal with the exception of image of the red, white, and blue shield-carrying man. Coulson must really like that guy.

With the lack of anything else of interest, her attention returned to Coulson. She still didn’t know what it was he was doing, but it was almost beautiful: his gestures and the way he made writing appear mid-air. His no-longer-bizarre blue eyes glinted and his pale but clean fingers danced.

After a few minutes he announced that the paperwork was filed and after it was approved she’d never be trapped in her room again. She made no attempt to leave, so he returned to other paper work.

May watched, her hands curled over the slightest swell of her womb, and unintentionally dozed.

When she woke –- embarrassed -– later, she woke to a fine spread of food: sandwiches, fizzy lemonade, and cut fruit.

“Hungry?” an unusually cheerful Coulson asked.

May reached for a proffered sandwich and proceeded to eat it, ashamed that she’d been so tired she’d let her guard down and fell asleep in Coulson’s presence.

“So, your independent pass-pad activation paperwork has been approved,” Coulson said with a grin.

May nodded, chewing.

“It should be switched over in an hour or so.”

May swallowed and replied, “Good.”

“Do you want to go back to your room after lunch?”

May shrugged. She was still unsettled by the ‘spotting’ and for some odd reason being around Coulson relaxed her.

Coulson nodded. Maybe he knew her thoughts, maybe he just didn’t want to push her, but he did open up a bottle of fizzy lemonade, which she took without hesitation.

Coulson was unusually quiet and at first May was relieved, but eventually it was just too _odd_ and she had to break the silence.

“What’s that?” she asked gesturing to the framed image with her lemonade-hand.

Phil colored slightly but answered, “That’s Captain America.”

May quirked her eyebrow in query.

Phil finished the piece of fruit in his hand and began, “Many many years ago, before Gods walked the world, there was a hero. He led one tribe-nation in a war against an evil ruler of another tribe-nation. He died in this pursuit. Many years later he returned -– just as young and powerful as he had been -– and helped try to save the world-that-was from the newly appeared Gods. He died yet again. Tales say that if the world needs him again, he will return once more.”

May nodded politely and took a swig of lemonade. She sensed there was something more Coulson wished to say.

After a few more bites of food, Coulson did in fact continue, “The truth is no one believes he will return again. Very few believe he was a real person, let alone the same real person. But the indomitable spirit of a man that returns from the dead to try to save the world, now that is a symbol worthy of respect.”

May smiled at Phil’s earnest and guileless heart.


	19. Chapter 19

For some time after the close call, Philip was over-solicitous out of misplaced guilt. May didn’t believe he was at fault for her terror and internment. She blamed the system, or more specifically, that one-eyed dark skinned man who was supposedly in charge of the euphemistically named Guest House.

That did not mean she was reluctant to use his guilt to connive another trip to the gardens out of him. He gave in rather easily.  

The smells, sounds, and feel of the lush gardens, redolent with moist dirt and droning with busy bees was something beyond soothing; it was almost spiritual.

May’s explorations were less frenetic than the first trip, and after maybe a half hour she was content to sit on the border of the strawberry raised bed and just enjoy the verdant and luxuriant surroundings with Philip sitting nearby.

She was not irritated.

She was not nauseated.

But for the subtle nagging of her bladder, she could imagine things were normal.

_Or at least as normal as things could be._

She pushed the rest of that thought-strand down, determined to enjoy her time here.

She let the warm and humid air soak into her, easing some of the tension she carried in her shoulders. She released her unconscious grip on her womb and began working on her shoulders with one hand, steadying herself on the cold, rough godsbone/ _concrete_ with the other.

After a bit, Philip roused from his own daydreaming and asked if she’d like some help. She turned him down with a short look. She could take care of this herself, thank you very much.

Philip nodded politely and then proceeded to get up and wander around.

May lost track of his wanderings after a while, focusing on a thick knot, and even could no longer hear the pad of his footsteps over the sounds of the bees in the strawberry patch behind her.

This was not an issue –- actually, it was almost a relief –- until it was.

Her bladder went from quiet nagging to full on screaming in the space of one fragrant breath.

She needed to pee. Now. And Philip was nowhere to be seen or heard. _And_ she doubted the sky-people would appreciate her watering their plants.

She took small shallow breaths, trying not to squeeze her bladder any more than she had to.

She still needed to pee. Still Philip was gone.

She tried to name all of the plants she could see in both languages.

She still needed to pee. Still Philip was gone.

She dug her nails into her palms.

She still needed to pee. Still Philip was gone.

She gave in, discarding her need for decorum and self-sufficiency, and shouted with more urgency than she had wanted to, “Philip?!”

“May?” he called back. He was close, and worried.

She was embarrassed, she did not mean to concern him.

He appeared, coming at a stiff jog, breathing steadily, eyes scanning the surroundings for danger.

She explained softly, “I have to pee.”

Philip pulled up near her, “What?”

“I have to pee,” she said slightly louder but equally as flustered.

Philip began to chuckle.

May bristled. He was laughing at her discomfort.

“Now,” she added, more irritated than embarrassed.

“Yes, of course,” Philip replied, having managed to rein in his distasteful laughter, “This way.”

Philip led her to the same side-wall that contained the moving room –- the one that took them down to the garden -– and indicated a door.

May thumbed it open, allowed the door to slam behind her, located the toilet, and relieved her bladder with a sigh.

She performed the Skye-mandated ablutions before exiting the little bathroom.

“Feeling better?” Philip asked with a poorly suppressed smirk.

She glared in response.

“I’m sorry I laughed, I was just relieved.”

May continued to glare.

“I thought you were in trouble.”

May quirked her eyebrow wordlessly asking, _what trouble could I possibly encounter here?_

“I don’t know. A bee?”

May rolled her eyes with disdain.

“A group of guys harassing you?”

May turned her scornful look up to eleven.

“Right,” he said with… a touch of pride?

“The baby?”

She stilled and clutched her womb.

Philip grew even paler than normal, realizing the fate he had just tempted, and tried to change the subject quickly, “Those bees really can be quite nasty -– we have some of these Africanized honey bees -– and they are really nasty; super defensive and hyper-swarming; can sting you all over; but they are prolific and good pollinators; and I don’t know anything else about bees…”

May stopped glaring, rolled her eyes at his babbling, and gestured back to the garden.

With relief Philip replied, “Yeah sure.”

On their walk back towards the familiar portion of the massive gardens Philip continued, “I have to do something important in an hour, so…”

May nodded. Of course he had important things to do. Skye had told her repeatedly how unusual it was that he spent so much time with her in the first place. She didn’t need him to baby her. She could take care of herself –- the events of the past fifteen minutes notwithstanding.

She returned to her old ‘seat’.

He continued, “Do you think you can find your way back to your room? Or should we leave in 45 minutes?”

She nodded an affirmative to the first statement.

“And if you need any help…”

She cut him off, “Yes, I know.”

He nodded, “Right, you don’t need any help.”

May didn’t know how to respond to that. She certainly would prefer to be completely independent, but that was an impossibility now. 

He took his own seat. His shoulders were more hunched, body language more closed-off or stressed, than it had been.

“If you need to go now?”

Philip examined her closely before nodding and saying with false brightness, “Have fun!”

He left.

May sat and tried to recapture the peace she had felt. It would not return.

She focused on the sound of the bees, but instead of being soothing it wound her up.

She wandered around the herb garden portion of the massive place; she still was not at peace.

She obstinately stayed another hour before returning to her rooms.

Thankfully it was not too difficult to find her way back despite the maze of corridors and the press of oddly-colored people. She didn’t know how she’d react if she had to ask for help to find her way home.

* * *

At their next flight training session –- May just graduated from naming and identifying the purpose of the items in the primary flight display and primary navigation display to learning about the auxiliary and emergency panels -– Maria behaved oddly. She _said_ that she was disappointed with May’s unnecessary use of violence to get to the med-bay, but her body language and mannerisms said she was pleased.

The sky-people were confusing.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which May is talked to death by a lawyer. And slips up, calling Philip by his first name.

Precisely four weeks after the _‘initial contract briefing_ ’, Skye, Felix Blake, and Victoria Hand showed up at May’s door. They weren’t _exactly_ a surprise -– about a week prior Skye had reminded her of the upcoming deadline -– but between the flying, the bleeding, and the trip to the garden, it had slipped her mind.

For some of the aspects of the contract there was really only one good choice, and thus she knew her answer; other aspects had no good choices, so she didn’t.

She greeted the ‘guests’ at her door and gestured for them to sit at her table. She only had two chairs. Skye and she remained standing.

“Have you decided on the conditions of your post-birth custody contract?” Blake asked.

May let Skye go through the motions of translation to buy herself a bit more time. _Where was Philip?_

When Skye’s translation was complete, May nodded.

“If Philip… Coulson,” May corrected herself with a touch of embarrassment, which was only enhanced by Skye’s blatant wink, “If Coulson dies; Maria Hill is parent.”

Victoria Hand nodded, “Both Coulson and Hill have already mentioned that arrangement. I’m glad you agree.”

“Where is Coulson?” May asked.

It was Skye who answered her, “He’s not allowed here during this meeting.”

“Oh.” _Stupid sky-people rules._

“Your conditions?” Hand prompted.

May placed one hand over the invisible-but-tangible swell of her womb, sent a brief prayer to her mother and ancestors and replied, “Shared custody from beginning. I go home when second baby two.”

Hand repeated her conditions, “Joint custody of the first infant by you and Coulson from birth. Twenty-four months after the first birth, a second round of AI will be initiated. Joint custody of the second infant from birth, and twenty-four months after the second birth you will be returned to the exact geographical location you was removed from -– or a slightly different location to account for nomadic drift.”

Blake typed alterations to the contract on a tablet-shaped thing or at least that’s what May thought he was doing.

Hand had Skye translate the full legalese of the conditions.

May nodded, agreeing to Skye’s translation of her conditions. She wasn’t quite sure why she specified shared custody from the beginning, but it was Philip’s baby too and she knew he’d make a good father. She’d rather work out the hows and whens of co-parenting with _him_ than with this group of meddlers.

Hand turned the meeting over to Blake again, “Now, the standard amendment to account for miscarriage is…”

May halted him with a powerful glare.

Hand interceded, “I know this is a difficult subject, but it must be covered.”

May nodded reluctantly, and Blake continued, still lacking any sort of compassion, still utterly oblivious, “Now the standard amendment to account for miscarriage is: if the pregnancy is terminated –- spontaneously or medically-induced due to fetal abnormalities -– prior to the 18-week mark, another round of AI will be initiated after a three to six month wait as determined by medical and mental health professionals. The first pregnancy will not count towards the standard two full-term pregnancies. In the case of multiple miscarriages, further medical examinations of mother and father, and possible re-examination of the contract is standard. Is this acceptable Ms. May?”

Skye translated his tactless words. Outside May nodded her acceptance. Inside May shrugged. It wasn’t like she actually had any power here. This all was really just for show.

“The standard amendment for stillbirth –- or any pregnancy termination after 18 weeks -– or infant death, is that the pregnancy counts. If this is the first pregnancy, the second round of AI will be initiated after six to twelve months. If this is the second pregnancy, the mother will be returned home once deemed healthy.”

Skye translated; May nodded, stroking her stomach fretfully.

“The standard amendment for first pregnancy twins is to nullify the need for the second pregnancy and the mother will be returned home after the contractually dictated length of time. There will be no bonus or amendments for second pregnancy twins.”

Skye translated, May nodded.

“In the case of parental neglect, the unfit parent will lose all parental rights and full custody will be given to the other parent. If this is not possible, the children will become wards of The Guest House and reside in the crèche and/or school housing full-time.”

Skye translated; May nodded, trying to force down a wave of nausea.

“In the case of paternal death prior to the second pregnancy the mother can choose to continue AI with the original father’s frozen sperm or choose a new paternal donor. This will trigger an automatic contract revision. This donor has the option of being granted paternal rights over one or both of the children. In the case of paternal death after the second pregnancy, the mother can choose to extend the length of her stay and/or select a parental proxy. You have already selected Commander Maria Hill as your parental proxy.”

Skye translated, May nodded.

“As you have already selected Maria Hill as your parental proxy, we could fill out some of the amendments to the paternal death amendments now…”

May felt sick. Hand shook her head slightly at Blake.

“…Or we could save those for later, if they’re needed.”

May nodded, sending grateful thoughts towards Hand.

“Do you have any questions?” Blake asked, looking like he’d be unable and unwilling to answer them if she did.

May shook her head.

“Do you have any questions for me?” Hand asked, looking slightly more agreeable.

May shook her head.

“Will you press your thumb here?” Blake asked holding out his tablet.

May complied; the tablet was smooth and a bit cold. She took her hand away and saw her thumbprint embedded into the document.

Blake continued, “We will inform Coulson, get his signature, and then the contract will be sealed. In the case of extreme unforeseen circumstances contractual alterations are possible with a one-month moratorium.”

Hand and Blake left, leaving only a smirking Skye and a massive headache behind.

“So _Philip_ is it?” Skye asked with an annoying knowing grin.

May fixed her with a halfhearted glare, “I have a headache.”

“Okay…” She said skeptically on her way out the door.

Once she finally had the room to herself, May collapsed onto her bed with a groan.

The sky-people were beyond bizarre. They kidnapped her. They demanded two children from her womb. They had all the power and then they frittered it all away with these perverse legal contracts and the like. Either they thought that the _legal_ protections would pacify the ‘guests’ –- but who would believe that with the power so one-sided –- or they got a big kick out of subjecting the poor guests to torture-by-lawyer. Either way it meant the same thing, the sky-people were strange.


	21. Chapter 21

After the massive-headache inducing power-show of determining her pregnancy contract, life pretty much returned to normal. May still constantly battled morning sickness. She still had twice-weekly flight training sessions. Philip still dropped by frequently with food -– sometimes good, sometimes odd, always special.

A week later May had her 10-week check-up. Philip was quite excited about this one and made her promise not to go without him. May was a bit irritated and certainly didn’t understand why he was making such as fuss until he reminded her about how neat it had been hearing their child’s heartbeat.

She agreed with a soft smile.

The day of, they walked to the med-bay together, Philip practically bouncing with excitement.

Doctor Simmons greeted them and did not even wait until they had retreated into their exam room to start interrogating May on her breakthrough bleeding. She had had a quick check-up right after it stopped, but Doctor Simmons was nothing if not diligent.

Doctor Simmons went through the standard preliminary check: blood draw; blood pressure; blood oxygen levels; heart and lung function; ears, nose, mouth, and eye examination.

As with the five-week check-up, Doctor Simmons had a cart of random electronic things and after May changed into the examination gown and repositioned herself on the exam table, Doctor Simmons put on the same red glasses and spread on the same cold goop. She ran the same stick-like thing over the goop for a few minutes as Philip impatiently and fretfully waited –- he didn’t quite pace, but the way he transferred his weight from one foot to the other was almost as annoying.

Doctor Simmons continued rubbing the stick around on May’s abdomen, hmmming every so often, and periodically touching the side of her glasses. At the point May was fairly certain Philip was going to explode from impatience, Doctor Simmons took off the glasses, turned on a television, and pushed a button on the transducer.

“Everything looks good,” she said as the television screen went from blank blue to snowy-grey and then, suddenly, a black oval with a grey body appeared.

May could clearly make out the shape of a head and a teeny tiny nose, a bright white spine and a miniscule foot with even smaller toes.

Her baby.

Philip stilled beside her and then grabbed her hand.

_Their_ baby.

They shared a brief look of awe before returning to the screen.

Their baby jumped inside its black womb. May couldn’t feel it, but she could see it. It was so marvelous.

Philip was perfectly justified in his impatience. This was beautiful.

Doctor Simmons began talking and May let the words flow over her, hardly registering them. She was fixated on her baby. Sure it was only a black-and-white image, but it was so much more than she’d ever thought possible.

Sometimes the baby lay still, but most of the time it bounced. Once it bounced so vigorously Doctor Simmons lost the baby for a few seconds!

“Is it normal for her to be so active?” Philip asked.

Doctor Simmons smiled reassuringly, “Yes, it’s quite normal at this stage of development. I’ve measured the CRL, BPD, and several other dimensions of your baby. It is either 70-days-old and 25th percentile, 68-days-old and 40th percentile, or 66-days-old and 75th percentile. Given the date of insemination and parental height, it is probable that your baby is 68-days-old and 40th percentile. Therefore, your due date is March 10th.”

May looked at Philip questioningly; she had not yet learned the sky-people calendar.

“Late winter, early spring,” he translated, grinning.

_Late winter/early spring._

“Would you like to know the sex of your baby?” Doctor Simmons asked.

Philip looked inquiringly at May who nodded curiously.

“I am 85% certain you’re going to have a baby girl. I’ll know for certain once I process the blood work.”

May ignored the whiffle-waffling that enveloped the important part of that statement.

“A girl.”

Philip gently squeezed her hand, sighing, “A baby girl…”

It was both all too real and yet undreamed-of. She could imagine holding a tiny baby girl -– feather-soft black hair, Philip’s bright blue eyes, and the in-between skin tone of Skye -– and yet the incredible science/magic of Philip’s people to be able to peer through her skin into her womb and **know** made it all seem like a dream.

“I told you it was a girl!” Philip quipped, eyes twinkling.

May snorted at his antics to cover up a smile. It wouldn’t do to laugh at his jokes; it would just encourage him.

Anyways, his banter could only distract her from the wonder of the moment for so long and then her eyes returned to the miracle on the television screen.

All too soon, Doctor Simmons put down the stick, leaving one frozen snapshot of their daughter on the screen.

“Now, once I’m done processing your blood-work in a few days, I’ll have a 100% confirmation as to the sex of your baby; you should just wait a bit before picking out a name.”

May was distracted by the thought of having to pick a name for her baby as Philip interrogated Doctor Simmons.

“Blood-work? I thought you needed to do Chorionic Villus Sampling?”

“Oh no! A colleague of mine and I worked out a way to separate out fetal stem-cells from maternal erythrocytes and use those for the genetic defect screening. We haven’t had to perform _that_ crude procedure for almost seven years. Our new method has had about a 7% maternal contamination rate, which is a bit higher than CVS’s rate of 4%, but it’s much easier on mother and child and has absolutely no risk of complications.”

May didn’t bother trying to make heads or tails out of that jumble of syllables; she was too busy trying to think of baby names. _Tian-min was a good name, but it was too similar to Tian-li, Skye would think she named the baby after her. Or she could name her daughter after her mother, Xiao-long – little dragon. Would Philip like that? Would Philip even be able to say it? Maybe Philip already had a name picked out…_

When May rejoined the conversation Doctor Simmons was telling Philip when she’d have the results of the ‘genetic defect screen’.

He noticed the bleary way she was gazing at him and asked, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, replying only with, “A girl.”

Philip gazed admiringly into her eyes –- which May was more than a little uncomfortable with -– agreeing, “A baby girl…”

Doctor Simmons handed May some soft pieces of paper to clean herself with and she used that as an excuse to break eye contact with Philip.

She cleaned herself up, and then changed after the others exited the room -– still talking about how Philip had a small chance of giving his children some sort of genetic disease and Doctor Simmons reassuring him that is wasn’t very likely, and besides the ‘degree of heterozygosity’ was quite high. _Whatever that meant._

Before they left, Doctor Simmons handed them each a shiny, thick piece of paper with an image of their daughter. On the edges were various sky-people writing with some numbers; she’d have to ask Maria what it said but it was amazing that she could hold an image of her unborn daughter.

Philip walked her back to her room, and after she carefully set the picture of her daughter down in a safe spot, she took a nap, exhausted.


	22. Chapter 22

Phil floated through life, a dorky grin plastered to his face. Maria told her that he’d murmur ‘baby girl’ almost constantly -- even during important meetings -– not to mention that he’d apparently shown off his baby picture to _everyone_ he worked with.

May was glad he was so happy about the baby, but then again he wasn’t the one who was sick most mornings for several hours.

Three days after the ultrasound, Phil came by for lunch -– this time he had actually given her advanced warning that he’d be coming by with something special.

This something special was –- predictably -– a lunch-food of some sort. It was this creamy orange-and-white filling in a brown crust topped with flecks of some green herb and pomegranate jewels.

She wondered if pomegranates also meant fertility to the sky-people.

He cut the round pastry in sixths and dished some out for her.

Cautiously –- for though she’d been practicing, she found the sky-people’s eating implements to be a bit tricky and she hated making a fool of herself in front of Phil -– she broke off a forkful of the lunch-thing and tried it. The filling was sweet and nutty with a smooth silky texture. There were unseen bits of savory and aromatic onion. The herb was parsley, which added some freshness, but May’s favorite part was the contrast of the bright sweet/tangy pop of pomegranate jewels with the mellow sweet richness of the filling. Even the crumbly buttery crust was nice and rich without setting off her ‘greasy’-nausea.

She hummed appreciatively.

Coulson beamed with pride.

As she chewed a second bite, she picked up one of the pomegranate seeds and asked, “What is your name for this?”

“That’s a pomegranate aril or seed. Pomegranates used to be grown in the Middle East and Mediterranean…”

May ate as Phil rambled on about the fruit. She interrupted an ancient –- yet disturbingly analogous –- myth concerning a stolen bride, a magical ruler, and pomegranate seeds to ask for another slice.

Phil eagerly obliged and smirked, commenting, “You’re eating for two.”

May rolled her eyes at his old joke but used it to segue to a question she’d had for a few days, “What baby names are you thinking of?”

Phil’s fork paused mid-air for a moment before returning to his plate.

He cleared his throat, “Umm, well, that’s really up to you.”

She stared at him, willing him to continue.

“It’s not really my place. You’re the mother. I know you’ve granted me initial shared custody, which is unusual and really great, thanks; but still, she’s your daughter.”

She continued to stare, asking silently for him to elaborate.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re asking.”

“She is your daughter too?”

“She is my daughter, but it’s not my place to name her. Unless you didn’t want anything to do with her, and then I’d figure something out. Probably something stupid, like naming her after Captain America.”

May quirked her eyebrow at his unusual negativity.

Phil’s shoulders sagged slightly, “I want this. I want _her_. I really do, but none of this is anything I’ve ever prepared for.”

May twisted her lips, _like I’ve had loads of time to prepare for this._

Phil inclined his head, agreeing to her wordless reproof.

As a reward May said, “I like Tian-min. But it is too much like Tian-li. I also like Xiao-long.”

Phil smiled, clearly relieved at the reprieve, “I know Tian-li means sky, what does Tian-min mean?”

He didn’t quite get the emphasis on the first character right, but May didn’t bother to correct him, “Tian-li means beautiful sky. Tian-min means clever sky.”

Phil grinned, “That’s nice. And the other one?”

“Xiao-long means little dragon.”

“Shaa-oo-long?”

As May had expected, he couldn’t pronounce her mother’s name correctly, she tried once more, “Xiăo-lóng.”

“Shao-long?”

May wiggled her head from side to side. It was better, but still not quite right.

Phil shrugged self-effacingly, “I’m sorry. I’m no good with languages.”

May shrugged dismissively.

“Would you like some more?” he asked, pointing to the ‘Tofu and butternut squash tart.’

May shook her head. It was good but she didn’t have room for a third piece.

For dessert Phil unveiled yogurt topped with more pomegranate jewels. This she did have room for. There was just something about the smooth creaminess with a touch of tanginess that made the sky-people’s version of fermented milk so delectable. And the pomegranate seeds added just enough sweetness.

“This tastes very good,” May complimented Phil, he colored slightly.

In response, he changed the topic once more, “You know how you’re almost in your second trimester?”

She nodded hesitantly. Skye had used that sort of terminology.

“Well, that’s when you’d typically move into family housing,” he paused.

May waited silently, not knowing where Phil was going to take the conversation. She’d already slipped up and called him by his personal name a few times and had given him immediate shared custody of their daughter. Did he think these things meant more than they truly did?

Either he got whatever feedback he was waiting for, or he gained confidence, as he continued, “Well, there is a new apartment in the Pacific Coast family housing section that is almost ready, and Maria and I are more than happy to help you move in…”

May nodded. Phil looked downright relieved she was willing to let him help her move. Which was odd. She didn’t really need the help; it wasn’t like she had all that much _stuff_ , but it was sweet of him to offer.

Then she took a look around her at her room. The formerly sparse room was surprising full. There was the table and eating implements (‘gifts’ from Skye), the mountain of cushions and extra blankets from Phil, and two treasured aerial images (one from Phil, one from Maria). Even the closet that she had once thought contained more clothes than she’d need in years had filled with even more clothes. There were clothes suitable for exercise, non-flower hued clothes, thin jackets, thick jackets, and even a garment intended for swimming. Maybe she did have stuff...

Certainly more than what she arrived with six months ago –- which as nothing, not even her own clothes -– and more than what she could fit in a pack on her back.

“Yes, please,” she reiterated more than a bit startled.

Phil smiled as he gathered up the dishes.

She snagged one lonely pomegranate seed and returned his smile.

As he left carrying the remains of their lunch, she called after him, “Maybe you should think of baby names too.”

He paused at the door and nodded thoughtfully.


	23. Chapter 23

The day of May’s move from ‘intake housing’ into family housing came faster than she had expected.

Predictably, Phil was the first person to arrive –- with a late breakfast of oatmeal and dried berries -– he really felt the need to feed her despite the fact that food regularly magically appeared.

He un-compacted some brown things into containers as she ate about half of the meal. That was all she had a stomach for.

Once he had unfolded the boxes, he asked if he could start packing up her bedding. She agreed. Once she was full, she tossed her clothes into another of the brown boxes, an act which garnered her a look of shocked dismay from Skye, who took over and salvaged the ‘rumpled’ garments as soon as she arrived. That left removing what few personal items she had acquired from the bathroom and taking down the pictures for May. Phil had already told her to leave the eating implements in the room –- unless she had a personal attachment to them, which she most certainly did not.

Three people made quick work at packing the contents of May’s room, even though it was more stuff than she’d ever claimed possession of.

Phil and Skye left carrying several boxes of items and May was told to ‘just rest and wait for Maria to show up’. She grumpily acquiesced, and picked up the slightly foxed picture of her daughter. It, and the two framed pictures of the sky and the world, were resting on top of the other boxes.

Skye and Phil returned, accompanied by Maria, and together they carried out the last remnants of May first six months with the sky-people. May lapsed into a bit of a funk as she closed the door behind her. _Six months – a half-year – at home it was almost fall._ The season of summer plenty would be almost over and people would be preparing for the winter lean-times. _Would the clan be able to hunt and dry enough meat without her?_ She shook herself out of her gloom. _Yes. She was just one hunter among a dozen. They would survive._

As they thumbed their way through an extra-wide doorway similar in design to the one near Phil’s apartment, Skye grew more and more excited. By the time Phil stopped in front of another door and gestured for May to thumb it open, Skye was practically vibrating out of her skin. _Something was up_. By Phil’s faint smile she knew it wasn’t something bad.

The pass pad accepted her thumbprint with a small beep and as she opened the door she was battered by a cacophony of voices shouting “Welcome Home!”

Once the door was fully open, she saw about a dozen people, some familiar, some unknown. Doctor Simmons was standing in a corner between a man with very curly hair and Phil-blue eyes and that one head-guard with dark skin and odd facial hair. Victoria Hand was standing right at the front with a tall, pale brown-haired woman. There were a few other vaguely familiar guards and another Doctor May had sometimes seen in the background of the med-bay.

May gave Coulson a quizzical glare.

He shrugged with a half-smile as if to say ‘don’t blame me’. And yet she did. She rolled her eyes at him, straightened her back, and entered her new living quarters.

Victoria Hand greeted her first, “Welcome to your new home May. This is my partner Isabelle.” The tall woman beside her nodded politely.

May nodded in return and then stood around awkwardly. Was she supposed to talk to these women any more?

Phil rescued her, asking, “Would you like to say hi to Doctor Simmons?”

May nodded gratefully.

They headed over to Doctor Simmons’ corner together. By the time they wound their way there, she had been welcomed ‘home’ by quite a few strangers, but hadn’t been forced to stop and chat.

The head-guard had left, leaving only Doctor Simmons and the curly-haired man.

Doctor Simmons eagerly asked, “How are you doing? Has the morning sickness eased up any? This is my friend and labmate Doctor Fitz. He’s the one who helped me…”

Doctor Fitz interrupted, “Excuse _me_? You helped me!”

Doctor Simmons continued as if nothing had happened, “… with the process of separating fetal stem-cells from maternal blood for the genetic defect screen.”

Then she turned to address both her and Phil, “You’ll be happy to learn your daughter is completely healthy, no issues, and she’ll even be lactase persistent!”

Phil nodded, as if this meant something to him, so May nodded along.

Doctor Simmons and Doctor Fitz argued over the allocation of credit until Skye and the head-guard came to join them.

Skye offered them a selection of crackers and veggies, and Doctor Fitz could not argue with a full mouth.

Skye introduced the guard as, “My friend Trip.”

May thankfully receded into the background as the five sky-people talked about an upcoming ‘match’ of some sort.

She let their words flow over her as she examined her new dwelling. The first room was about as large as Phil’s first room. There was a well-occupied couch and a television screen nearby. Closer to the front door was a table –- larger than the one in her old apartment –- with four chairs. Along the wall opposite their corner, close to the table was a whole bunch of stuff she had no idea about –- boxes and drawers and a sink. Most of the snack food seemed to live there. There was a small entranceway that presumably led to the bed and bathroom, but she couldn’t quite tell from where she was standing.

As the sky-people talked and May observed, the snacks began to peter out. The unfamiliar guards disappeared at the same time as the food.

May ducked out of the conversation to try to find the bathroom. She needed to pee –- as per usual.

After two failed tries -– rooms that she promised she’d explore soon -– she found the bathroom. It was just as blindingly white as the bathroom in her old place.

After doing what she came to do, she decided she’d rather explore than brave the throng again.

The room closest to the bathroom had a smallish open-top green cage, a flat-topped cabinet, an odd chair, and colorful, fanciful animals everywhere. There was a closet full of tiny baby clothes and paraphernalia. Her babies’ room.

The other room had a bed -– much larger than her other bed –- a small white cradle, and her boxes of stuff. This was her room. She debated between unpacking and returning to the hubbub of the welcoming gathering. Unpacking won.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Hand interrupted her mid-box.

May turned and faced her, completely unapologetic.

“It’s died down quite a bit out there, and Izzy and I are about to leave. I just wanted to wish you luck.”

May didn’t know if that warranted a response, so asked, “Is this normal?”

Hand shook her head with a wry smile, “No. But I’m beginning to suspect that nothing about your time with us is going to be normal.”

May didn’t know what that meant, but was spared having to respond because Hand just turned and left.

May tossed her back-support pillow onto her new bed and went back out to the front room.

Thankfully only Skye, Maria, and Phil were left.

Phil was tidying up the snack-area and Skye and Maria broke off their conversation upon her return.

“I was wondering if we needed to send out a search party,” Skye joked.

“I had to pee,” May replied.

“Oh, did you see my gift?!” Skye was easily distracted. Maria looked as if she wished to argue about the amount of time it actually took to pee.

“Gift?” May asked.

Skye dashed off to the bathroom and May followed behind. Skye opened up the shiny-surface above the sink -– May didn’t know you could do that –- and showed off a roughly apple-sized cylinder with a bright blue bow.

“It’s anti-stretch mark cream!” Skye exclaimed.

May thanked her politely before being dragged back out to the front room, Skye enthusing about her other gifts.

Maria gave her a solid brick-sized stack of somethings wrapped in shiny paper.

“It’s pure chocolate,” she explained.

May thanked her sincerely.

“And Phil has a gift for you too,” Skye crowed as she dragged a reluctant Maria out of the apartment, leaving the two future parents alone.

Phil colored at Skye’s behavior; May just rolled her eyes. _Skye will be Skye_.

Phil pushed through his embarrassment and began, “So this is the food preparation area, or kitchen.” He indicated the now spotless snack-area.

“This is a cold-box for keeping things from spoiling. This is a hot-box for warming things up.”

He went on to show her various food preparing and eating implements as well as her personal stash of ready-to-eat healthy snacks.

“Now, you will continue to receive your ready-made, nutritionist-approved meals, but if you want, I can show you how to make some other things too.”

_Was Phil’s gift cooking lessons?_


	24. Chapter 24

May laid on her back in her new bedroom, on her new huge bed, meditatively running her hands over her stomach. This morning was a milestone; she actually could feel her womb. There was a new gentle swell only she could detect: her _daughter_.

It all was becoming real to her it fits and starts. She was going to have a baby -– she’d even _seen_ her –- though it would be six months or so before she would hold her daughter in her arms.

It was almost enough to distract her from how hollow and empty her new quarters felt.

May rolled over to her side and clutched her body pillow. She thought back to the tail end of that bizarre ‘housewarming party.’

Phil had offered to teach her how to cook with the sky-people’s odd boxes and dumbfounded, May had agreed. She had said that it would be nice. She was a strong supporter of self-sufficiency -- despite her current circumstances -- and strangely she found she was actually looking forward to spending time with Phil. Phil had mentioned his mother’s famous chocolate mug cake recipe –- which, whatever that was, anything with the word chocolate it in had to be good.

Before he left, Phil had paused, “I don’t want you to go all ‘warrior princess’ on me, but there is surveillance set up in the baby’s room. I had them disable the surveillance elsewhere, but the baby’s room is non-negotiable.”

May had nodded in response. Of course the baby’s health and safety was paramount; that was the whole reason they were doing this.

Phil left before she could ask him what warrior princess meant in this context. Then May had restlessly unpacked her clothes and bedding (half of which was too small for the new bed and she ended up storing it in the baby’s room) before eventually falling asleep.

That was two days ago and May was finally mentally settled in enough to venture out of her apartment and explore the Pacific Coast family housing section, or at least she would as soon as her stomach settled enough to eat a bit of breakfast.

In. _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Hold. _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Out. _One, two, three, four, five, six_. In. _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Hold. _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Out. _One, two, three, four, five, six_.

After a few more breaths May had her stomach under enough control to risk rolling out of bed.

She padded out into the main room, relishing the feel of the plush _carpet_ under her bare feet –- or at least until she got to the _kitchenette_ area and its cold _linoleum_.

She pulled a dry, hard, faintly gingery biscuit out of a box in a cupboard and began gnawing on it to break her fast. She found that if she didn’t push herself, and had several small meals in the morning, her stomach wouldn’t hate her _quite_ so much.

Biscuit reduced to nothing more than a few crumbs on her annoyingly-expanded bosom, May returned to her room to get dressed for her explorations.

She took a bit more care than normal in the selection and dressing-process and grabbed another biscuit on her way out.

Her door opened into a longish hallway with perhaps a dozen doors on each side. She debated what to do next. She didn’t need to wait long.

The door across the hall and a bit closer to the main exit opened revealing a heavily pregnant woman in a purple flowered dress. The woman was slight, frail-looking, with tanned (not Phil-pale nor Trip-dark) skin but oddly curled black hair. She looked helpless, but for a brief predatory glint in her eyes.

And May knew very well appearances could be deceiving, take herself for example.

“Ah, you must be the new one. We were wondering when you were going to poke your head out,” the woman began, “I’m Raina.”

“May,” she introduced herself, glancing at the woman’s huge stomach. Would she get that big? She looked ready to pop.

Raina easily deduced what she was thinking, “Second pregnancy, 28 weeks along, twins. The Doctor claims it’s natural, but I’m betting they wanted a bit more _bang-for-their-buck_.”

Raina shrugged, and tried to turn the conversation, “So, do you have someone you’re trying to get back to?”

May glowered in response to such a personal question. Raina seemed not to notice.

“I’m in it for the _long-haul_. I like the _cush digs_ and whole not-starving thing personally.”

She used more odd words than even Skye. But May could still comprehend her, barely. She nodded.

“So?” Raina prompted.

“My mother,” May reluctantly revealed.

“I’m sorry. Must be tough. I never knew my mom; she died when I was very young. I was raised by my Grandma. Anywho, there are a couple of others trying to get back to sweethearts and the like, and a couple more like me, stoked to live on _Easy Street_. They’ll be out and about a bit later; afternoon is watch-the-kids-not-kill-each-other time. I’ve got to get to a doctor’s appointment. It’s been nice chatting with you.”

Raina headed out the main entrance and May walked the other way. She reached the end of the hallway having seen nothing but pass-pad locked doors and carpeted hallway –- at least the walls weren’t storm-cloud grey like most of the helicarrier but a slightly warmer not-quite-white color like her rooms. She turned around, walking to the main entrance. There was no one about and no clear communal gathering areas. She returned to her door having decided she had explored enough for now. Her ears still buzzed from Raina’s odd way of talking.

And anyways, her stomach was settled enough now to eat something more for breakfast. Phil didn’t think the ginger-biscuits counted.

After her second breakfast, May did a bit of Qigong, watched a bit of television, and then ventured out of her rooms again.

This time she was more successful. She met the deep-chocolate Akela with her serious 8-month-old son Paul; the even-paler-than-Phil, almost pink Hannah with her babbling and warm 17-month-old daughter Laura; and Kara Lynn, a bronzy-hued woman whose pregnancy was only three weeks further along than May’s.

They were all very eager to get to know her, but after such a long time mostly alone on helicarrier –- actually she was quite a hermit before, too –- she couldn’t stand their single-minded focus on her for very long.

After a half-hour of attempting to extricate herself from their grasp politely, she feigned morning-sickness and fled.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which May flies.

The next day she snuck out of her rooms to meet Maria for her flight lesson. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but she knew that none of the other ‘guests’ had outside friends let alone outside friends who taught them Jiu-jitsu or how to fly. These women and their children were going to be her neighbors for the next four or five years, it wouldn’t do to isolate herself from them -– at least not if she could help it.

Thankfully, but for the ear-piercing squealing laughter of a toddler, her escape was uneventful.

She had to walk back to her intake apartments and from there to the flight simulator. She tried a more direct route, but she was blocked by an impassible secure sector and she didn’t want to waste time trying to find her way around it -– today was a special day. Today was the first day Maria was letting her actually _fly_ in the flight simulator!

When she arrived, she _was_ late, by two minutes. The precision of the sky-people’s time-tellers and Maria’s meticulousness were a ruthless combination.

Maria gave her a disappointed glare that May’s mother would have been proud of.

May attempted to explain her difficulties finding her way from her new quarters, “I got lost…”

Maria cut her off with a terse, “No excuses.”

May curbed her clarification and apologized, “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Maria wordlessly brushed off the apology and gestured to the pilot’s chair with her chin.

May slunk into the chair and began talking her way through the pre-flight checklist. Maria demanded she verbalize what she was doing and why. She said it was the best way to show she’d actually learned, and that it helped to ingrain the knowledge into her memory, something about teaching being twice as good as learning.

Maria stopped her once to double check that she’d disengaged the autopilot, but she had lost her disappointed and annoyed look. May was relieved. She didn’t know how long Maria could hold grudges. She hoped she never learned.

When it came time to check the HUD, May noticed that the digital altimeter was different from the analogue one. This hadn’t been covered in her earlier lessons. She tapped on the faceplate of the analogue altimeter, checking if the needle was stuck at 100 feet.

Tapping didn’t help.

She restarted the Heads Up Display. The digital altimeter still read 10,700 feet.

Maria interrupted her troubleshooting, “What are you doing now?”

May had forgotten to keep up the play-by-play.

“The digital and analogue altimeters are out of synch. I tried percussive re-calibration of the analogue altimeter and restarting the digital one. I was thinking about how you always say to trust the analogue equipment over the digital, but I think they both might be right. In the simulation we are at 100 feet, but the helicarrier itself could be at 10,700.”

Maria nodded along, agreeing with May’s actions and then smiled broadly at her last observation.

Her eyes glimmered with pride, “That’s exactly what I did. I synched the HUD up with the helicarrier control deck -– which is not something _you_ should do -– to test you. Another discrepancy you might notice is…?”

May scanned the HUD carefully, “The fuel level. It’s at 14% and we’re not allowed to take a quinjet out with less than a quarter tank.”

“Good job May.”

May warmed with the praise. That was the most effusive commendation Maria had ever given her.

“Perhaps someday I’ll tell you about the helicarrier’s fuel system, but for now, I’ll reset the HUD.”

Maria’s fingers flew, purposefully making it difficult but not impossible for May to follow along.

The rest of the safety, preflight, before start, engine start, and taxi checks went smoothly.

May released the parking brake.

She pulled down the yoke.

She set the takeoff thrust and flipped the TP/GA switches. They were moving.

She checked the wind speeds –- just a mild 10 mph crosswind.

She checked the engine -– green.

She increased the takeoff thrust by 5% and held on to the yoke as the forward motion and the push of air beneath the wings began to lift the quinjet off of the runway.

In her excitement she released the yoke slightly and the landing gear bounced off of the runway once before she refocused and continued to establish the opening climb.

Up, up, up they went!!!

She retracted the landing gear as they continued to climb –- as _she_ continued to climb.

She retracted the outboard flaps and monitored her thrust levels.

She turned the yoke, adjusting their heading and soon a yellow light flashed up. May’s heart raced as she (slowly) read the alarm –- Yaw preset limit reached –- she knew this one. She adjusted the rudder slightly to compensate; the yellow warning disappeared.

Once they –- she –- safely reached 5,000 feet, she engaged the autopilot and sighed in relief. She’d done it! She was flying!!! Of course she’d been far too nervous to truly relish the experience, but now, now she could feel the tension in her neck melt way as she flew over the simulated landscape.

“Your takeoffs need some work, but they’re not half-bad either,” Maria interrupted her reverie.

May smiled back, for once truly at peace.

The simulated landscape rolled beneath them, the simulated crosswind tested her, but all was right. **She was flying.**

* * *

After May’s virgin flight, Maria invited her back to her apartment for a celebratory drink.

Her apartment was austere and small –- unlike either May’s living quarters or Phil’s.

Maria gestured to the small bed and May perched upon it, trying not to disturb the crisply folded bed linens. Maria puttered around her minuscule kitchen -– far smaller than May’s -– and May looked around at the apartment.

Everything was storm-cloud grey and utilitarian. In addition to the small, crisp bed, there were two dressers –- one small one at the side of the bed and one roughly the size of a man. There was a small boxed-in corner that was likely the bathroom –- though it was tiny -– and the minuscule kitchen contained a tiny cold-box, a small hot-box and a bit of storage above. There were no images on the walls or beside the bed and no splashes of color either.

May knew without asking that this was exactly how Maria wanted it.

When Maria was done doing whatever it was she was doing, she handed May a mug of hot mud-brown liquid and flopped onto her floor without spilling a drop of her own hot brown liquid.

“Try it,” Maria said with an undertone of glee, “It’s hot chocolate!”

May took a sip of the warm, rich, sweet-and-bitter drink. It was good.

“Bet you’ve never had anything like it,” Maria gloated. May didn’t want to wreck her fun, so didn’t mention the fact that Skye had introduced her to hot chocolate a week prior.

“So good,” she said instead.

The two women sipped their drinks in congenial silence. May was able to recapture the peace she’d felt up there, in the air.

Maria finished her mug and popped up off of the floor, asking, “Want another?”

May shook her head; she was good.

Maria placed her mug in the kitchen area and sprawled back on the floor.

Time moved slowly, sweetly, like tree sap in the early spring.

Maria broke the silence again, “Do you need to get back?”

May checked the time; it was almost lunchtime. Phil might pop by. She should be there.

She nodded with a touch of reluctance.

Maria nodded firmly in response.

“Do you need help finding your way back?”

May waggled her head in a waffling manner. She didn’t quite know the way home, but she could wander.

“Ok,” was Maria’s only response, and it was quite welcome. Phil would have argued. Maria didn’t baby her.


	26. Chapter 26

Thirteen weeks after her artificial insemination, May woke up feeling in fine fettle. She had slept well the past night _and_ her stomach didn’t protest as she considered reheating a _quiche_ Phil had brought by the day before. The much-proclaimed normal period had been reached –- hopefully, or _touch-wood_ as Skye would say -– and May felt _good_.

She feasted on the quiche –- two whole pieces –- and proceeded to fully explore the contents of her cold-box and kitchen cabinets. There were many unusual powders and liquids, hopefully Phil would teach her what they were for soon.

She still had energy to burn.

She reorganized her clothes and inventoried the baby stuff –- it was impossible to make head or tails out of some of the tiny things but she still had time. Next, she washed out Phil’s food storage containers and still had energy to burn.

She wandered around the family housing section looking for something to do, or someone to rejoice with –- or at least mention it too –- but to no avail. It was too early.

She returned to her room and did some Qigong exercises, which settled her for a bit. But then she was debating between organizing her clothes yet again or trying to sit still through a television show, when she got an impish thought…

She ghosted out of her rooms, and the family housing section, before she could change her mind.

She snuck through the helicarrier hallways before reconsidering; she’d attract far fewer curious glances if she strode with purpose.

She reached her destination without issue, but then she was faced with the impenetrable barrier of a pass-pad.

She hadn’t thought this through. Well, she hadn’t really thought about it at _all_ , so yeah…

She stared at the pass-pad, willing it to disappear.

Sadly, it did not.

Well, she had two options: try the pass-pad and face the possible consequences, or return home.

She carefully delineated the consequences. Best-case scenario: the door would open. Most likely scenario: nothing would happen and she would have to admit defeat and return home. Worst-case scenario: trying the pass-pad would alert some guards and they would either drag her home, or to Phil, or Maria, or to some other authority figure for punishment.

She could work with those consequences.

She pressed her thumb to the pass-pad.

The door opened.

She wasn’t really expecting that!

After a blink or two of surprise, she stepped into the room and snicked the door quietly shut behind her.

With one deep breath she steadied herself. She scanned Maria’s room, ensuring it was empty and everything was it had been the three days earlier, before darting to the full-sized dresser.

She opened, perused, and then closed each drawer carefully ensuring everything was returned to its place and she left no signs of her meddling. But she had no luck. The dresser didn’t have what she was looking for. She stepped over to the bedside table. She opened the top drawer and peered in.

Success!

 _And_ she was in luck. Maria’s bras were the same style and color as hers. She unbuttoned her stretchy trousers, pulling out a small bump made out of bras.

With an unfamiliar giggle teasing at her throat, she swapped out Maria’s bras for her own pre-pregnancy bras. They’d be smaller about the chest and bust; Maria would be so confused!

May grabbed Maria’s bras and balled them up returning them to her baby-bump hiding spot.

She made it out of Maria’s room -– throwing one quick last glance behind her to ensure she left no trace behind -– and the housing quarters section, and into a main hallway before the threatened giggles overtook her.

She giggled and giggled, bending over, hand on her bra-bump, trying to catch her breath, trying to stop her laughter.

One stranger stopped and asked if she was okay and after a struggle to catch her breath and respond, she reassured the woman that she was fine, it was just giggles.

The woman looked unconvinced, but May shrugged, “Pregnancy hormones, you know.”

The stranger nodded, unwilling to seem ignorant, but offered to walk her back to family housing.

May assured her she’d be able to make her way back. Her fiercely blank face must have convinced her -– or scared her –- as she wished May well and left.

May was able to strictly control herself until she made it all the way back to her apartment.

She collapsed on her couch, wracked by months –- no years -– of bottled laughter. When at last she was fully purged, she continued to lounge on the couch, rendered relaxed and boneless by the cathartic release. Her Grandmother always told her a good laugh was as good as sex; May would just have to take her word for it.

* * *

After hiding her stolen undergarments in the closet, a soothing shower, and a large lunch of standard (non-Phil provided) food May was re-energized to her morning level.

With a straight back, she decided to brave the throng of women likely gathered in the hall watching their children play. From the daily spike in hallway noise, they did this regularly.

This time, the raucous hoard wasn’t quite as intimidating; she now knew most of the mothers and about half of the children, and similarly wasn’t quite as shiny-new intriguing to them either.

The three, four, and five-year-olds were running back and forth in some sort of chase-me-catch-me game. She nodded to Kara Lynn, who was holding some else’s infant and she nodded back. The other mothers were talking about various child-related incidents -– or complaining about the boringness of the food. May nodded along, letting their sounds wash over her.

The conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by a crying three-year-old who’d tripped over her own feet, and May took the opportunity to confide in Kara Lynn.

“I think my morning sickness has passed.”

“That’s wonderful!” Kara Lynn rejoiced.

“What’s wonderful?” Raina intruded.

“May’s morning sickness has passed!”

Raina took the opportunity to complain about how much worse her morning sickness had been with the twins and pretty soon the entire enclave of mothers was comparing and complaining about morning sickness, hemorrhoids, and the like.

May receded to the background once again strangely buoyed by the broad grin and thumbs-up sign the other first-time expectant mother gave her through the competing din.

May wondered if it was the pregnancy hormones making her soft. She used to have two people she could depend on –- Mother and Weiyin –- and she already had three on the helicarrier. Yes, Skye might be a bit on the annoying side, but May could still depend on her -– and that number might continue to grow.


	27. Chapter 27

The next day was an important day –- the first of Phil’s cooking lessons.

May woke up feeling good –- not _quite_ so full of piss and vinegar as the day before, but good.

She ate, did some Qigong, and then compulsively cleaned the kitchen in preparation of Phil’s noontime visit.

When Phil finally arrived –- precisely on time, though May had already gotten fidgety –- he was carrying a large box of food-things.

May stood by awkwardly as he unpacked the food, revealing a bunch of red-veined green leaves, a small odd paper-wrapped root vegetable, a container of a yellow grainy powder, and a wedge of cheese. He also took out a white board, a sharp knife wrapped in a small towel, and a small metal box with holes.

When that was complete, May straightened up and looked questioningly at him.

Phil grinned and began, “Now, the first, and most important thing to remember about cooking is to always wash your hands.”

Wordlessly, May turned on her heel and went to the bathroom. Phil followed behind.

She washed and dried her hands, Phil following suit in wordless choreography. Once finished, she handed her small towel to Phil. He smiled in thanks and nodded to return to the kitchen.

“The next step,” Phil said as he placed the white board on the counter between them and then proceeded to pull off the crunchy paper-like cover from a part of the root, “Is to cut these up very finely. But first you need to get rid of the outer cover.”

He carefully unwrapped the big knife and pounded one of the little rootlets with the flat of the blade. Nimbly he shucked the outer cover and then handed the knife to May, “Your turn.”

May tried to repeat Phil’s action, but the rootlet –-  _clove_ , apparently -– rolled away. The second try was successful and Phil had her repeat it with a third clove as well.

The slightly mashed cloves released a powerful smell, just on the edge of eye watering, which only got worse as Phil demonstrated the correct technique of mincing.

May was quite capable of using a knife, thank you very much, even if the sky-people’s knives had really big handles and mincing wasn’t exactly like gutting or skinning. She took over.

In the meantime, Phil rummaged through the compulsively re-organized cabinets until he found what he was looking for -– a really big bowl.

He ripped the green leaves into bite-sized pieces and tossed them into the big bowl.

May asked, “Is this good?” pointing to the pile of smelly tiny bits.

Phil nodded, “Great, and if you could just put them in here?”

May scraped the pieces off of the board and into the big bowl of greens using the knife.

“Great, now then we’ll mix the Swiss chard with the garlic,” he narrated as he mixed with his large, intriguingly-smooth hands.

“And then we’ll add ¼ cup water,” he brushed the little straggly scraps of garlic from his hands before pouring a bit of water from a little yellow spoon-cup thing. May hadn’t noticed him grabbing it from the drawer or filling it up. Normally hands weren’t that distracting. It was the pregnancy hormones, clearly.

“And then cover it with a towel, and put it in the hot box for 2 or 3 minutes,” he continued to narrate.

“And while that’s cooking, it’s time to grate the cheese,” Phil grabbed the metal holey box and placed it inside a small bowl before rubbing the cheese up and down over the holey side. Ahhh, he was shredding the cheese.

The hot box beeped and Phil handed off the cheese-metal holey box-bowl contraption.

It took a few tries before May quite got the hang of ‘grating.’ She had to apply just the right amount of pressure in the correct orientation, otherwise the cheese could go flying or nothing would happen.

“The chard needs another minute or so,” Phil said as he returned from mixing the leaves.

May nodded in acknowledgement.

Just as she thought she was getting the hang of the grating-thing, she grated her thumb.

“Tā mā de!”

The salty, metallic tang of blood filled her mouth.

“What happened?”

May gestured at the grater in disgust, her injured thumb in her mouth, her injured pride on the floor.

“Oh dear,” Phil said and vacated the room.

May had only a few moments to puzzle over his response before he returned with a small white box she recognized from behind the bathroom mirror.

He dragged a chair over from the table, gestured her into the chair, flipped open the box and pulled out a few items.

He wordlessly requested her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation she obliged.

She hissed at the cool air stung the fresh wound and then gritted her teeth. It was a tiny scrape; she was just being a baby.

She refused to show any more weakness as he cleaned the abrasion with a stinging pad, applied a soothing ointment, and then covered the wound with a sticky bandage.

He kissed the bandage with a quiet, “There, all better.”

May remained in the chair, frozen in shock. His fingers were so gentle, his movements so precise, and that kiss -– though she did not feel it through the bandage, and thumbs were hardly the most erogenous areas –- it did _something_ to her.

Her cheeks burned and her womb tingled.

She ducked her head hoping to avoid even _more_ embarrassment as Phil returned to the cooking lesson.

He held up the bowl of _chard_ , “You see how this is a bit wilted, but still bright green? This is perfectly cooked. Now on to the next part, the polenta.”

He placed the bowl of greens on the counter with the towel still draped over it.

“Now, take one cup water and ¼ cup polenta and stir,” he narrated. May could not tear her eyes from his soft, yet-skilled hands.

“And then into the hot box for 2 ½ minutes. Meanwhile, I’ll take care of the grater.” He shook the remaining bits of shredded cheese -– and thumb -– out of the grater before setting it aside and checking the level of cheese.

He complimented her on how much cheese she manage to shred. She shrugged her shoulders, it was nothing.

She still tingled down there.

Once the hot box beeped, Phil stirred the grains, added a bit of milk from her cold box and put it back in the hot box for two minutes all whilst narrating.

As he was bending over slightly to put the bowl of grain back in, his shirt was drawn tight around his shoulders. May was surprised to note how broad and well-muscled his shoulders were.

Something warm and rapturous surged from mound to womb. She felt an alien impulse to wrap her arms around his shoulders, to explore his shoulders, and press her changing curves against his steadfast form.

He began setting the table, and May got up and helped. She didn’t need two hands to place napkins and forks. And she needed a distraction before she burned up from the inside. Or did something un-redeemably stupid.

This distraction was moderately successful.

Once the grain was done, May watched as he heaped a pile onto both plates, sprinkled May’s hard-earned shredded cheese on top, and then mounded the greens on top of that.

Phil shook off her offer of assistance and carried both plates over to the table.

With a nod he commanded she try it.

It was good. The grains were warm and creamy and the greens still had a bit of crispness. The best part was the cheese -– her cheese. It added a really nice salty-savory depth to the meal.

In short, the first cooking lesson was a success, disregarding the grater-thumb incident, which is what May would prefer.

After the first serving, Phil tentatively asked, “So you remember how you said I should think of baby names too?”

May nodded, mouth full.

“Well, I’ve thought of some…”

He just stopped there, so May nodded in encouragement. It would be nice to give her daughter a name her friends and father could actually pronounce.

He cleared his throat nervously, “Well, Vanessa means butterfly, which I thought would be nice since you like the observation deck and the garden; and Celine means sky too…”

May swallowed her food and tested the name, “Vanessa…” She shrugged. “Celine; Sè-lín?”

Phil studied her, an awkward earnestness in his countenance. It was a wonder sometimes, how she didn’t find his awkward dorkyness annoying. Instead, underneath he had a humble strength, which was calming.

“Sè-lín in my language means Jade Fortress,” she continued

“Jade Fortress is nice,” he responded.

She inclined her head in agreement, “Celine is nice too.”

He looked pleased with her praise, pinking slightly on the ears. She wondered about his slightly pointed ears. Wondered if they felt any different than normal ears. Her mind had begun to wander, wondering if he was the same pale shade all over his body when he called her back to reality asking if she had room for dessert.

“Always.”

He began pulling items out of the cabinets naming them as he did so, “Flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, salt, sugar, oil, milk. Bowl, two mugs.”

He added some white flour, some brown cocoa powder, a tiny bit of two fine white powders, and then the sugar into the bowl. He listed precise quantities but May’s mind was elsewhere –- like his hands… no, bad May.

 He mixed them together with a fork until the powder-mix was all one color. He poured a bit of oil and more milk onto the light brown power and stirred some more.

“Now the best part,” he said, pouring the ‘batter’ into the mugs, dripping a bit. He licked it off his strong yet gentle hands. A swell of heat and wetness throbbed just below May’s daughter.

He placed one mug in the hot box. May couldn’t look away. Round and round the mug went as her heart pounded and her mind raced. This was not normal, not right… Phil licking spilled chocolate off of his thick thumb should _not_ do this to her!

The hot box beeped and Phil explained that you needed to leave the chocolate mug cake in the hot box for a bit so that the cake doesn’t fall, and you don’t burn yourself.

May was already burning…

Phil handed her the cake and a spoon and made his own. She tried to distract herself with the cake, but it didn’t work. The cake was rich and moist and chocolatey, but it just wasn’t enough.

Phil returned to the table with his cake and proceeded to talk about his mother’s fondness for this recipe.

He babbled on in that endearing way of his for a while before eventually stopping and saying, “Is there anything wrong? You seem quieter.”

May lied, “I’m thinking about our daughter.”

He nodded solemnly, “Good thoughts?”

“Good thoughts,” she reassured him.

He smiled softly. Out of all of his smiles –- his bright grins and his self-conscious half-smiles -– his soft, almost secretive smile was probably her favorite. It seemed so genuine, so unexpected, like a gift.

The lesson ended on that quiet yet agreeable note and Phil washed the dishes –- May only able to tear her eyes from him when he was washing up in the bathroom –- and then gathered up his supplies: the knife, cutting board, and evil grater.

Phil broke the silence but not the atmosphere, “See you Thursday?”

She nodded and watched him leave, her mind a terrible knot of confusion.

Could the sky-people have a magical way to force people to have these _feelings_? Was it some crazy side effect of pregnancy? _Why was she having these thoughts? What did it mean!?!?_


	28. Chapter 28

After some undeterminable time fretting, May was finally calm enough to meditate, and during her meditation she realized it wouldn’t make any sense for the sky-people to use some sort of love-drug. For one, it wouldn’t get them anything that they couldn’t take by other means. And besides, none of the other women in family housing showed any sign of having any of these sorts of feelings, they never interacted with their Phils.

It was probably just a side effect of her finally feeling good and her body freaking out about that. It would go away soon and she would just have to make sure she didn’t make a fool of herself in the meantime.

Now that she knew about this side effect, she’d not be blindsided by that _reaction_ again.

In addition, now that she had rationalized that her feelings were a side effect of her condition and not some sort of sky-people tool, she felt free to take advantage of the situation. It had been many months since she’d felt safe and good enough to see to her own needs.

She sprawled back on the couch and slid one hand under her stretchy trousers and underpants to tweak her pearl of pleasure. She was still quite slick from before.

She kneaded one tender breast with her injured hand, playing with her taut nipple through the layers of fabric deemed needful by the sky-people. It was a good thing fabric was much thinner than fur or leather.

Up and down and round and round she rubbed her nub while massaging her breasts.

Up, up, up she climbed, trying not to think about how much better it would be if her fingers were a bit bigger and not so callused. How much better it would be if her hands were more like Phil’s. How much better it would be if she could see his blue eyes lust-darkened.

With one forceful flick she soared, and through the pounding of blood in her ears in the otherwise peaceful landing after free-fall, she heard pounding on her door.

She cursed whoever it was. She could have gotten another flight in. She wiped her sticky fingers off on her underpants and pondered who it could be.

None of the other mothers had ever knocked on her door -– even if it was about the right time for them to be congregating in the hallway. Had they heard something unusual and wanted to see if she was all right? Her face warmed. She _thought_ she’d been nearly silent.

Could it be Coulson, having returned after leaving something behind? Her face burned at the possibility. How could she face him right after _that_?

She didn’t have time for any further thought as she reached the door and opened it.

It was Maria. She was annoyed. Her lips were a thin line and her eyes were scarily blank.

That was unexpected.

“How could you?” Maria enunciated clearly, obviously restraining herself.

May’s stomach sank; how could Maria know?

The women and children in the hall were watching them curiously. Raina in particular wore this unforgettable expression of restrained glee.

“Come in?” May asked; she’d rather die than have a conversation justifying how she pleasured herself while thinking about Phil in front of all of her neighbors.

Maria nodded sharply.

May opened the door and gestured to the table, not able to face having this conversation on the very couch she did the deed upon.

Maria dropped a bag on the tabletop. May hadn’t even noticed her holding one.

“I gave you access to my quarters in case you had another emergency, or needed to escape something, not so you could root through my things and steal from me.”

_Oh. Ohhhhhh. Oh?_

“This is about the prank?” May asked, scrambling to find her footing in the rapidly changing conversation.

“Prank?” Maria scoffed, “You call rummaging through my quarters and nabbing my bras a prank?!”

May nodded reluctantly, not certain if it was a rhetorical question or not.

Maria threw her hands up in disgust.

May wanted to curl up in shame. She had thought that Maria would find it funny, or at worst a little annoying. It _was_ Maria who had introduced her to the concept of pranking…

“I’m sorry,” May said simply.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Maria clipped out.

May took a breath to find the words, “I’m sorry I swapped out your bras for mine. I’ll go get them right now.”

May scrabbled up to grab Maria’s bras from her room.

Maria watched stone-faced. May’s underpants were still sticky and cold from before. It was an _incredibly_ uncomfortable combination.

May grabbed Maria’s bras from the corner of the closet she had stashed them in and wished she dared to change or do a quick cleanup, but she had to do her best to salvage this friendship and thus she dared not keep Maria waiting.

May dropped the bras on the table in front of Maria, restlessly smoothing them out.

Her shoulders hunched, her eye’s lowered; she began, “I’m sorry I touched your things I… I… just thought that with you having fun pranking Phil and him… and… well I thought we were friends too… but I’m sorry and I won’t do it again.”

The irritation melted from Maria’s face.

“We _are_ friends,” she sighed, thinking, “It’s just that since growing up in the crèche, and then barrack living, I don’t like it when people touch my stuff, you know. Phil knows this and pranks accordingly.”

May nodded, wishing she could ask more about Maria’s childhood, but it wasn’t the right time.

“So, things like putting an extra-cold drink bottle on the back of my neck, or giving me extra-spicy brownies without warning,” Maria continued, “But I guess I forgot you didn’t know that about me.

“I’m sorry I went off on you.”

May nodded, raising her eyes from the table, accepting Maria’s explanation and apology.

Maria took May’s old bras out of her bag and plopped her bras into it, “Friends?”

May nodded a third time, she replying in relief,  “Friends.”

They sat in awkward silence for a beat.

“What smells so good?” Maria asked, moving on.

“Phil was teaching me how to use the hot box to cook food.”

“Yeah?”

“We made _garlicky Swiss chard on polenta_ and _chocolate mug cakes_. I grated my finger.”

She held out her bandaged finger as evidence.

“Ouch,” Maria commented, “But that sounds good. Smells good too. Phil’s so old-fashioned.” She smiled nostalgically.

May cocked her head, eager to learn more about Phil. She and Maria had had unspoken rules about forbidden conversation topics, rules that both seemed willing to break today.

“Yeah, no one cooks real food for themselves anymore. Almost everyone has daily meal-service or cafeteria credits as part of their employment contracts or through welfare services.”

May must have looked shocked.

“Yeah, it’s not just the Guest House residents, it’s everybody. Phil’s mom was real old-fashioned and liked to cook for her family on special occasions. And he took after her. Once Phil was promoted, he spent most of his Earned Life-Credits on an apartment with a ‘real’ kitchen, and picked up baking. He says it’s relaxing.” Maria snorted softly.

“Even he eats in the cafeteria most of the time. Too much of a hassle to get the raw ingredients even if he had the time.”

Maria nodded at May’s kitchen, “He had yours outfitted special too. Nick drew the line at a real stove or knives though.”

May didn’t know how to take this news. The day had just been too much.

“Really?”

Maria nodded, “Not the hot box or cold box. Those are standard, but the flour and sugar and shit.”

“Yeah?” May probed despite the fullness of her brain and the tumult of her heart.

“Yeah, he really likes the idea of cooking for his daughter like his mother cooked for him.”

_Oh. Right. His **daughter**. _

May nodded, dazed.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow for our lesson.”

“I’m sorry for touching your things, I won’t do it again,” May replied.

“And I’m sorry for getting so mad at you for your prank.”

May walked Maria to the door. The hallway was full of mettlesome faces. May shut the door on their curiosity.

She collapsed on the couch, wrung dry. What a day… 


	29. Chapter 29

It took May a few days to really sort out her feelings in regards to Phil. Her unnatural attraction to him had to be the result of her pregnancy horniness combined with her naïve misapprehension of the concern and care he naturally felt towards his daughter. Her attraction would fade as the pregnancy progressed and she could speed up the process by not letting herself forget that this was all about the _baby_.

It was a _good_ thing that her daughter would have a father who cared about her. Who was chatty and dorky on top of a foundation of quiet, humble strength. It was good.

She must not do anything to jeopardize her daughter’s future –- like letting her pregnancy hormones goad her into attacking Phil. She just needed to lock her attraction up with a vice-like grip and push it way down low.

With her mind made up, of _course_ circumstances would arise to test her resolve.

* * *

During her thinking days -- that's what May called the days she spent sorting out her feelings for Phil -– May had sort of fallen into the habit of roaming the helicarrier at midnight.

That day, after Phil had shown her how to cook and Maria and she had ‘talked’, she had taken a restless nap; she was emotionally wrung out and utterly bewildered. She awoke starved and confused. She ate the bland food provided as a late dinner and thought.

After a lot of thinking and no resolution, she grew restless and decided give up. She’d do something less futile, like work out the best way to get from her new quarters to the flight simulator so she wouldn’t be late to her next lesson. She wandered the hallways, building onto and amending her mental map of the vast helicarrier.

She rather enjoyed the quietness of the graveyard-shift helicarrier, the rolling echo of her footsteps. There were still people in the halls, but they were far less numerous than during the day and the yellow lighting was somehow different, somehow less grating on the eyes.

She found three good routes from her apartment to the flight simulator –- one that passed rather too close to Phil’s living quarters –- and after several laps of the helicarrier her mind was finally quiet enough to let her sleep again. The next day continued the pattern; insufficient nighttime sleep led to a post-flight lesson nap led to peaceful midnight roaming.

One added benefit of this skewed sleep schedule was that it was easier to avoid the at best merely curious questions of her neighbors. One, Kara Lynn, was sincerely concerned about why the sky-woman had been so irritated, others –- like Raina -– seemed to derive pleasure from her apparent misery.

However, her midnight roamings had attracted other attention –- whose attention, May didn’t know –- but she had an unscheduled house call by Doctor Simmons who had asked pointed questions about insomnia. May wasn’t brave enough to ask Doctor Simmons if mid-pregnancy horniness was a real thing, or if it was just a tall-tale her grandmother used to tell. Instead she just told Doctor Simmons that she was feeling good and about her newfound energy.

Doctor Simmons must have decided that her midnight wanderings were boredom-inspired, as immediately afterwards Maria increased their lessons to three times a week and out of the blue Phil had offered to teach her how to read.

Insanely, she accepted, which is how she found herself in Phil’s office cursing her earlier self.

Phil had pulled his mauve cushioned chair out from behind his desk and next to the other. His shoulder brushed hers as he patiently explained the thirty odd symbols the sky-people used for their writing and the sounds they each represented to her.

May personally thought it was a rather crude way to depict a language, but elegant or crude, simple or complex, it was hard to learn with Phil’s warm body so close she could smell the sweet-and-spicy tang he layered over his natural musk. It was hard to learn when she could feel the warmth radiate out of him. It was hard to learn when she could make out each tiny speck of hair-stubble on his boyishly smooth cheek.

But she was trying and mostly succeeding. Until Phil drew a circle, called it “oh”, and carefully enunciated the “oh” and “ah” sounds it could represent. It was downright sinful the way his lips moved and May had to bite her lip and painfully remind herself he was doing this for their daughter to stop herself from capturing his lips with hers.

“Bathroom?” she interrupted in a desperate attempt to flee.

She noted his directions with only a tiny portion of her mind –- the rest was debating the pros and cons of sticking to her resolution.

She managed to find the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and proceeded to clean up the now all-too-common stickiness.

May reminded herself that Phil’s kindness, gentleness, and patience would ensure he would be an excellent father, but that her attraction to him was not normal and not wanted.

Once sorted again, she went pee, washed up, and returned to Phil’s office.

Upon her return, they worked their way through the rest of the alphabet. Phil had a children’s book on gardening and patiently Phil pointed out how each letter worked together to construct the words and tell a story. Some of the words made sense, like lily or tulip, but others like daisy (what sound did A-I make anyways) or phlox (P-H makes an F sound?) made little sense, but that was okay. Phil was patient and the gorgeously colored pictures helped. May’s mind wandered, daydreaming about Phil reading stories to their daughter, or teaching her to read just like this.

May was quite proud that she managed to make it all the way until dinner before having any more _uncomfortable_ thoughts.

For dinner Phil showed her how to cook fish in the hot box, how to reheat oddly flavored rice, and tested if she remembered how to make garlicky greens from last time. He explained that the greens had a vitamin that their daughter’s growing body really needed. _And_ they were tasty.

Phil’s lavish praise when May successful remembered how to make them warmed her cheeks and someplace lower too. She bit the inside of her cheek.

The cooking fish smelled up the apartment, but in a good way, and May –- unthinkingly -– shared, “We used to fish in the late spring and my mother would make the best lightly-smoked fish in the whole clan.”

“Yeah?” Phil asked, gently probing.

May nodded, awash in nostalgia.

“You’ve never talked about your mother…” He probed further, still gentle.

“I miss her,” May answered simply, each of the three syllables dripping with heartfelt truth.

“I’m sorry,” Phil answered, just as earnest, “Sometimes I forget that you had a life before, a life we –- I –- have taken you from.”

May sighed, she had no energy to absolve him of his complicity in her capture, if that was even what he was asking for.

The hot box beeped. Phil fled.

May stared a her own hands –- thoroughly clean, with trimmed nails, and residual calluses from setting traps and throwing spears -– hands she did not recognize as her own anymore. They were neither the battered, dirty, useful hands of a clansman nor the clean, pampered hands of a sky-person.

She was neither beast nor bird, of neither land nor sky…

Phil returned with two plates of fish, rice, and greens -– and the cloud of tension.

They ate silently, tension building around them until, midway through the meal Phil cracked.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve said this enough, but I’m sorry you were taken from your life and family. I know it is the only way my people can survive, but it’s not fair. We try to soothe our conscience with contracts and statistical analyses, but we have no right, and we know it. I’m so sorry, May.”

This time Phil grabbed May’s hands and squeezed them gently yet firmly, as if trying to convey his sincerity tactilely.

A frisson of _something_ arced from his hands to hers to her womb. A small moan escaped her lips, and instantly her underwear was soaked –- for the third time that day.

Phil eased up on the hand-squeezing; thankfully assuming the moan was one of pain.

“Sorry…” he said shamefacedly.

“It’s just the finger,” May lied.

“Sorry,” he repeated himself. The genuine remorse on his kind, open face made her ache with unmet need. His blue eyes sparkled with righteous indignation, which only her yearn all the more.

“Our daughter!” she blurted, needing to focus herself.

“Our daughter?” Phil asked confused by the bizarre conversation change.

May’s mind raced. _What could she say?_

“Our daughter is right,” _yeah, that’ll work._

A soft, tender expression suffused his face. An ache in her heart she didn’t even know existed eased. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek.

“I’m glad you think so,” he smiled irresistibly, “It does seem almost like fate…”

May nodded. She didn’t believe in fate –- she did believe in her ancestors and her dreams, but she drew the line at such a nebulous concept as fate.

He released her hands and coughed once to change the mood, “I’ve thought of another name, or well Maria suggested it to me, but it’s a good one. How about Kaia? It means earth.”

May was glad that the conversation had moved on again, she rolled the name on her tongue, “Kaia…”

“Kăi-a means triumphant one in my language,” she added.

“That’s a good omen if I’ve ever heard one before,” Phil proclaimed, “Kai-aa.”

May flashed him a full grin before returning to her neglected meal, polishing it off quickly.

“Are you still hungry?” Phil asked concerned by her rapid eating.

She shook her head; the sooner he left, the less likely she’d do something stupid, and the sooner she could take care of herself.

“Would you like some dessert?”

She shook her head, his eyes narrowed with concern, “My head is full of letters and words. My head is sleepy.” Another lie. Why did lying to his kind, open face make her feel like such scum?

His tension eased instantaneously and he nodded in sympathy.

He finished his meal and did the dishes as she pantomimed exhaustion and lay on the couch, mentally urging him to leave promptly and without doing anything else sweet or endearing.

Her wishes came –- mostly -– true. As he left he nervously warned her that he was going to go away for a while, and there would be no cooking or reading lessons for at least a week. She squashed down a little smile as walked him to the door, not even caring about the way her neighbors stared as he left.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which self knowledge is uncovered.

Things were a little worse with Phil gone. She wasn’t missing him, or worried about him, that would be crazy. She hardly thought about him at all -– even when pleasuring herself –- things just were different, worse, without him.

May and Maria’s relationship was _different_ ever since the prank. The flight lessons were the same. Were good. But as the simulated flight conditions grew harder and harder Maria’s infrequent praise dwindled even more. Which was fine, May understood that.

Their pre-flight conversations -- never very varied -- grew even shorter, even narrower in topic. Neither were open to talking about their pasts, Phil was now almost completely off limits, and May didn’t want to talk about the baby, so that left very little. Sometimes even the most banal topics –- like food -– verged into ‘Phil-territory,’ which brought an abrupt halt to the conversation.

May accepted the changes to their friendship as she did almost everything with the sky-people, with bewildered acquiescence. She wished she knew how to fix it, but she just didn’t. She didn’t know why it went off in the first place.

Same with her relationships with her new neighbors -– some of them she had written off completely, having realized quite early they were toxic. Others –- namely Kara Lynn –- she _had_ wanted to get to know better, to see if there was something there, but Kara Lynn had recently started avoiding her, acting like she was the injured party.

 _Oh well, May was just fine by herself. Just fine._ And she wasn’t completely alone. Never alone. She always had little Xiăo-lóng/Celine/Kaia with her. And her body was beginning to show it too. Her trousers had begun to stretch around the growing lump. Her tunics were long enough and baggy enough to hide the changes from most eyes, but the tight, supportive tops she wore for the gentle Qigong exercises she continued with Doctor Simmons’ approval hid nothing.

One morning, fifteen weeks after the artificial insemination, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror whilst getting ready for a bit a Qigong. She hardly recognized herself. Her cheeks were plump; her hair was thick and glossy. Her breasts were enormous, practically leaping out of the black stretchy top she had on. Her hips flared out in a way they never had, and there, most prominent in profile, was the bump. Not more than a thumb’s width tall and less than a palm’s area big, it was still noticeable. _She_ was still noticeable.

She didn’t look like herself. From her glossy, well-trimmed hair -– Skye’s idea a few weeks ago -– to her broad thighs, she looked soft. More like someone on the sky-people’s _soap operas_ than the lean tiger-woman she’d been.

She discarded the idea of doing Qigong and stripped off her clothes, never taking her eyes off of her reflection in the mirror. She stepped out of her trousers and pulled the stretchy top up and over her head.

She ran her fingers over her collarbones. These she recognized. Her fingers moved downward, cupping each breast. They spilled out, having more than doubled in size due to the good food and pregnancy hormones. Her areolae were darker than they’d been before.

She ran her fingers down. She could still feel her ribs. The thin layer of fat she’d gained made them mostly invisible, but they were still there. She ran her fingers over her still-flat abs before cupping her bump, nestled low beneath her bellybutton, even with the tops of her hipbones.

She strained to sense the life within her. Kara Lynn was only four weeks ahead of her and had claimed to feel her son flutter within her about four weeks ago. Little Celine/Kaia/Xiăo-lóng did not move.

Her wandering, wondering hands traced the faint white stretch-marks to her hips, perhaps she should start using Skye’s special cream. Beneath the soft layers of fat she could still feel the hard edge of her hipbones.

Still further down her hands went. Her thighs, which looked so flabby, were still strong -– though she could not encircle one with both hands. Her calves were still firm, still strong, but would she still be able to stride her whole trap-line without strain?

She shook her head. The reflected glint in her eyes was familiar though. Her mother’s eyes sometimes bore the same expression of confused, hooded sadness.

Her hands cupped her unfamiliar face, stroked her unfathomably soft and glossy hair. All strange, all alien.

Even her shoulders had a new layer of fat over their prominences. She ran her hands down her arms. Firm muscles hid under soft fat.

Perhaps the lean tigress was still there, hiding underneath the soft fertility symbol. Perhaps she hadn’t completely lost her self in the confusion. 

She stared, boring into her own soul, striping away the months of just reacting, the months of just existing.

Who was she? What did she want?

She stared, striping away excuses and external limitations until she grew cold. Her nipples peaked and her skin was speckled with goose flesh.

As she pulled on her clothes she decided that the only thing she was certain of was that she needed to fly -– not just on a simulator, but for real. She needed to soar over the world, to watch the ground disappear beneath her wings. Only then would her self and her body be one again.

* * *

Now that May had a goal to work toward -– flying for real -– her days grew more purposeful.

She knew she couldn’t just outright ask Maria to switch from quinjet simulator to a real quintet –- even though she had mastered all of the basic _and_ intermediate flight scenarios –- no, she needed to convince Maria that she could truly handle it. She’d need to convince Maria that she was a skilled pilot, a good friend, and not a risk to herself or others before she’d be allowed to truly soar.

To this end, before the start of their next lesson, May asked Maria if they could add yet another lesson to their weekly schedule.

Maria stared into her, she tried to stare back unaffected.

Out of the blue Maria asked, “Coulson’s not back yet, right?”

May tried not to startle at the non sequitur, but nodded. Phil had been gone for five days.

Maria examined her closely before nodding firmly. May hoped it was in agreement.

Maria loaded up a scenario and wordlessly commanded May to cut the chitchat and get down to business.

With the smallest of smiles May did just that.

The scenario -– needing to cut across a strong storm system -– was pleasantly difficult, taking up much of May’s concentration. She could almost forget that it was a simulation. She could almost forget that she was pregnant. She could almost forget that she had unnamable, unreciprocated feelings for her baby’s father. Almost.

By the end of the lesson May had worked up a fine concentration-sheen on her forehead, but it was good. She mopped it up with her shirttails and could pretend she didn’t notice Maria’s eyes bug out at the clear shot of her burgeoning bump.

“See you tomorrow at seven,” Maria shouted after May.

They hadn’t had a lesson scheduled for tomorrow, so May grinned behind her hand at the small win.

The more flight time she had under her belt, the better when it came time to try to swing _real_ flight-time.


	31. Chapter 31

Phil still hadn’t returned home from his mysterious mission by the time May’s scheduled sixteen-week check-up arrived. He’d been gone nine days instead of the seven she'd been led to expect; May wasn’t worried, nope, not worried at all. Maybe a little. 

May wanted to postpone her check-up, knowing Phil would be devastated to miss the opportunity to see their baby again, but Doctor Simmons would not budge.

The morning of the check-up May reluctantly -– almost sullenly, but not quite -– trudged to the med-bay. Both Skye and Maria had offered to go with her, but it didn’t seem right to replace Phil like that, so she turned both of them down.

Doctor Simmons cheerfully greeted her. May nodded brusquely in response before walking into the exam room. She knew it wasn’t really Doctor Simmons’ fault -– these were the medical rules, and the sky-people really liked their rules -– and yet she couldn’t quite forgive her either.

Doctor Simmons performed the standard check-up and blood draw before the ultrasound. If Phil were here, he’d have been bouncing on the balls of his feet by this point.

May changed into the paper gown and Doctor Simmons prepped the ultrasound cart. She spread the cold goop on the underside of May’s baby-bump. This time she skipped the red glasses step and showed everything on the television screen.

After a few quick adjustments, May’s daughter appeared crisply on the screen. She was so much larger than she’d been six weeks ago, and less bouncy -– probably because she had less room to move around in.

First, Doctor Simmons zoomed in on her head and May could have sworn that her daughter had Phil’s adorable little nose-bump. Doctor Simmons commented on how everything looked fine with the fetus’s skull and brain. May nodded, wishing Phil could see this.

Then, Doctor Simmons changed the angle, this time looking at the baby’s back. Her back looked weird, made up of a dual column of stripes, but Doctor Simmons gave it the all-clear, so May didn’t worry.

Doctor Simmons jumped again, this time pointing out the placenta -– a fluffy mass thankfully high and on the front of the womb –- umbilical cord, and the baby’s stomach. Her stomach was a perfect little dark bubble. Phil was missing out on so much.

Next, Doctor Simmons focused on her heart. May could see the rapid little beat of her daughter’s tiny heart. The beat wasn’t quite as fast as it had been during the five-week check-up, but it was still much faster than May’s. Doctor Simmons said her heart was perfect. And it was.

Doctor Simmons checked on the baby’s _kidneys_ and May giggled -– just a bit -– as her daughter peed on screen. Everything was working there too. Each time Doctor Simmons moved the ultrasound transducer to get a different look, May blinked, not wanting to waste a precious second of baby-screen time on that mundane task.

Then Doctor Simmons moved onto examining her tiny fingers and toes. May’s daughter’s feet were so tiny and so perfect. Her hands were similarly tiny -– but still slightly webbed. Doctor Simmons said this was perfectly normal. May felt a prickle of tears tease at the corners of her eyes. She forced them away.

If only Phil could see this too.

Doctor Simmons zoomed in on the baby’s leg and began measuring it with some sort of computer tool –- related somehow, May knew, to the computer tools used on the quinjet simulator. Next she measured the baby’s head, chest, and arm.

Doctor Simmons turned to the computer and muttered a bit before returning her focus to May, “Everything is perfectly fine. No issues detected whatsoever and your baby is still a bit on the small side, 40th percentile, but that is totally fine. Totally and completely fine.”

May narrowed her eyes at Doctor Simmons. She was acting very suspiciously.

“What? Everything is fine. Totally fine.”

Now, May **knew** something was up. She turned up the glare.

Doctor Simmons wrung her hands and refused to meet May’s eyes.

May continued to glare, knowing she’d break Doctor Simmons soon.

She cracked, “I’m not even certain. I have to do some more tests, and maybe even another ultrasound later!”

May glared on.

“I might have, maybe, seen signs that your daughter might, maybe, have a cleft palate. It’s really hard to see on a ultrasound, and it’s probably just an artifact -- just a bit of noise -- but even if it’s there, it’s really easy to fix, and everything is fine, so there’s nothing to worry about, nothing at all.”

May glared some more, but Doctor Simmons just sagged, empty. That was all she was trying to conceal.

May would have to talk to Skye to be certain, but if cleft palate was what she thought it was –- split mouth –- it wasn’t life threatening, even without the sky-people’s magical science.

She nodded to calm Doctor Simmons’ panicking. It didn’t really work.

Doctor Simmons scurried off, claiming that she was going to call Maria, saying that she didn’t want May to be alone until she calmed down. She was so wrapped up; she didn’t realize that May was taking it fine; _she_ was the one that was upset.

As they waited for Maria to arrive, Doctor Simmons tried to act normal, reciting off of a mental list of Do’s and Don’ts for the sixteen-week check-up. She tried to seem calm, but her voice was a good half-octave higher than normal.

One of the more interesting Do’s Doctor Simmons shared was to start sleeping on her left side. This would put the least amount of pressure on her body and be better for baby too.

May took advantage of Doctor Simmons’ distracted state to ask a question that had been bugging her for several weeks, “Is it normal to have urges?”

“What? For foods? Yes, what foods are you craving? You should listen to your body. We’ve attempted to create the perfect prenatal diet, but genetic differences can play a role and Phil’s been taking some liberties…”

May nodded, “Not for food…”

Doctor Simmons stared at her blankly.

May continued, cheeks warming, breaking off eye contact, “Not for food, for contact…”

Still no sign of recognition from Doctor Simmons; _why was she even asking this_?

“For pleasure? For sex?”

“Ahhhh,” Doctor Simmons exclaimed cheeks bearing a hint of a blush, “Um, yes that is quite natural for the second trimester. The changing hormones and all. It’s quite normal. Nothing to worry about.”

May nodded, partly relieved and but still not completely at ease.

Doctor Simmons returned to the topic of making sure she drank plenty of water when Maria arrived, in uniform, out of breath and concerned.

Doctor Simmons pulled Maria aside explaining in a low –- yet still barely discernible, May had good ears -– voice about the anomaly she may or may not have seen on the ultrasound and how she was concerned about how May was taking it.

Maria agreed solemnly. May had to restrain herself from snorting.

Somberly, Maria guided May out of the med-bay. May stopped once they were out of sight and earshot of the med-bay.

“I’m not concerned about the split mouth. Doctor Simmons’ science-magic can fix anything.”

Maria nodded with a wry grin, “I know.”


	32. Chapter 32

“I’m not concerned about the split mouth,” May explained, “Doctor Simmons’ science-magic can fix anything.”

Maria nodded with a wry grin, “I know.”

“Then why is _she_ so upset?”

“Jemma –- Dr. Simmons -– is a perfectionist. Just like I can’t stand people touching my stuff, she can’t stand it when things don’t go according to plan. When things aren’t perfect. This ‘anomaly’ isn’t something she can control. She couldn’t have done anything to prevent it, and she can’t do anything to fix it until your baby is born –- if it’s real. She’ll read everything in the world about cleft palate, discuss it with that genius boyfriend of hers, and come to terms with it in a week or so.

“But what about you? Aren’t you sad you’re not going to have that perfect daughter you’ve been dreaming of?”

May shrugged attempting to convey her acceptance and confusion, and the shear unfathomability of the situation. She’d not really dreamt of her daughter, not really. And besides she couldn’t _do_ anything about it anyways.

Maria nodded, “So what do you want to do? We won’t be able to get flight time this short notice, but whatever else you want to do is fair game.”

“That’s fine, really. You don’t need to watch me. I’m fine, really.”

“Nah, it’s cool. Doctor Simmons has excused me from my duties for the next 8 hours. Do you want to just hang?”

 _Well if Maria really didn’t have anything better to do,_ “It’d be nice to just ‘hang.’”

Another thought struck her, “Just not at my place.”

She didn’t want even more reasons for her neighbors to hate her.

“Sure,” Maria agreed, eyeing her curiously, but thankfully she didn’t ask any questions.

They walked in comfortable silence back to Maria’s tiny bunk.

Maria graciously offered May her small bed and, shameless, she sprawled across it. After a bit of shifting she found the perfect position: on her left side as Doctor Simmons recommended with Maria’s pillow at her back for a little extra support.

“Comfy?” Maria asked with a smirk.

May felt more at ease with Maria than she had before The Prank, actually, more at ease with Maria than she’d ever been. She stuck out her tongue in response.

Maria snort-giggled in the least-elegant and -restrained manner conceivable.

Now, May was more at ease with Maria than she’d ever been.

“So, what do you wanna do?”

May shrugged, _this, just this, was enough_.

“That’s not really an answer,” Maria teased.

May shrugged again.

"Want some hot cocoa?"

May shook her head. She was fine.

“I know I’m not Phil, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do something fun.”

May’s shoulders tensed at Maria’s mention of Phil.

Of course Maria’s dragon-eyes would catch it, “I know you’re worried about his mission, I am too, but his last communiqué was on-time and encouraging.”

May wanted to argue –- she wasn’t worried about Phil -– but for some reason it was harder to lie to Maria than to herself. Her shoulders sagged –- not out of relieved tension, but out of some sort of emptiness.

After a beat -– or five -– of silence, Maria continued, “I’ve got something for you.”

“Yeah?” May asked, curious and accepting the abrupt conversation-change with relief.

Maria dug around in the bottom drawer of her tall dresser for a while before exclaiming victoriously.

She sat back on her heels proudly displaying a small book with a primitive quinjet-like machine on the cover.

May watched intrigued as Maria rocked back on her heels and clambered up.

“This tale is even older than Phil’s Captain America, scoot over.”

May sat up and moved over making room for Maria and her book on the tiny bed.

“This is a story about Amelia Airheart, a hero, a flyer,” Maria pointed at the tiny figure in the odd flying machine, “This is her plane. It was called a biplane. See those two wings? Long ago our ancestors built planes like that because they were studier and able to lift more, which was necessary because their building materials were flimsy and their engines were weak.”

Maria turned the page. There was a picture of a girl with yellow hair, a big blue ribbon, and a gap-toothed smile.

“Amelia or Mille was a curious child. She and her younger sister Muriel played outside and collected bugs,” Maria read.

“When Amelia was seven, she flew for the first time –- off of a home-made roller coaster.”

The next picture showed the same girl with mussed hair, a bleeding lip, and a wide smile. There was a big wooden ramp built off of the side of a squared-off hut-like building in the background.

Maria turned the page; the illustration showed an older girl with darker blonde hair reading a book sprawled on a couch-thing in a vast library.

“Amelia loved to read and loved science. For high school she picked the school with the best science program.”

“After she finished schooling, she became a nurse to help during the First World War and the Spanish Flu.”

There was a picture of the girl in a big white dress with a large red cross on the shirt.

The next picture was of the same gap-toothed young woman with short hair, a large brown jacket and a bright yellow scarf.

“After Amelia recovered from the Spanish Flu, she flew for real for the first time. She knew from that moment that she had to fly.”

“Just a few years later, in her very own airplane, she flew to an altitude of 14,000 feet, setting her very first record.”

This page bore the same picture as the cover, a yellow two-winged plane and a small yellow-scarfed figure.

“In 1928, Amelia became the first woman to fly across the Atlantic Ocean. This catapulted her into celebrity.”

May had been ignoring the terms she was unfamiliar with: roller coaster, high school, First World War, Spanish Flu, but there were too many unknown words in that statement for her to follow along.

“What does that mean?”

“Um, I guess, a long, long time ago Amelia Airheart became famous –- known to everyone -– after flying over a vast ocean,” Maria explained.

The picture _did_ show the woman being greeted by a cheering crowd.

After May nodded in response to Maria’s questioning look, she continued reading.

“Amelia promoted flying, advocated for other women pilots. She became the first woman to fly all by herself across the Atlantic and the first person to fly all by herself from Hawaii to California.”

This picture showed Amelia shaking the hand of an older woman.

The next, and last image was of a tiny yellow biplane alone over a vast blue ocean.

“In 1937, Amelia set out to fly around the world near the equator. She departed New Guinea and went missing, never to be seen again. She remains a hero and a puzzle.”

Maria handed May the book. She carefully took it.

“That book was my aunt’s –- my father’s sister -– and it is one of the few things I have from my family. I want you, and your daughter, to have it.”

“But, but, but, I can’t,” May argued eloquently.

“I want you to have it. Phil’s the closest thing to family I’ve got. It’d be only right.”

“But, but, but…”

“It’ll do you some good to have something to practice reading on. It’ll be good.”

May studied the book intently.

“Just think how proud he’d be if you could read that.”

May nodded, acquiescing.

“Hungry? Wanna see the Officer’s Mess?” Maria asked.

May nodded to both questions, and after a silent exchange of shoulder questions and eyebrow answers, reverently placed the picture book on the bed for later retrieval.


	33. Chapter 33

The Officer’s Mess was a loud, crazy place and the food was even worse than the bland, perfectly-balanced food the mothers in The Guest House received. The one redeeming feature was dessert. They had a vast array of ‘cookies’ and ‘brownies’ and without Phil’s disapproving glare May went wild. She got one of each of three different cookies, and a brownie. And then went back for a second brownie.

Maria just smiled indulgently.

In lieu of more painful conversation, Maria shared the brief life history of the various men and women in the mess hall.

May listened eagerly. The lives of these people could tell her about her children’s possible futures.

Antoine Triplett was the eldest child of the Commander of another helicarrier –- which was the second time May had heard of there being more than one helicarrier, which still struck her as unfathomable, how could more than one of these unearthly places exist? He had transferred over to avoid any rumor of favoritism. His younger sister was still in school. His mother had been returned to her home in the ‘Mid-Atlantic’ some time earlier, maybe when Trip was 8 or so. He was still close with his father and sister calling them -– whatever that actually meant -– frequently.

Isabelle Hartley grew up in the crèche having hardly known either of her parents. Her father never really wanted children, and her mother returned home when Izzy was 24 months old. Her older sister Jane was her life-long hero. Izzy was less suspicious and closed-off than Maria –- a fact Maria shared with a self-deprecating and self-aware little laugh that contained little mirth -– and lived with her partner, the Assistant Director of the Guest House, Victoria Hand.

May must have looked puzzled because Maria expanded, “They are like husband and wife, but wife and wife. They love each other. If you had decided on having your eggs harvested instead of a second pregnancy, Victoria would have had one or two of your babies.”

May shook her head at the craziness of the sky-people’s magic.

Maria’s eyes narrowed. May was confused by her anger for a moment.

“No, the magic-science is crazy, other people having my babies. Not the love. Their love is of the South and isn’t wrong.”

Maria looked faintly puzzled but shrugged and continued sharing details about her coworkers.

Doctor Simmons was the unexpected and only child of two sky-people. Her parents had practically smothered her with attention and enrichment activities in an attempt to ‘make up’ for her non-optimal genetics. Hence, her need for perfection, and her interest in reproductive science.

Lance Hunter was the younger son. His mother had returned to her home when he was 5 and he’d stayed in the crèche but had had frequent visits by his father. Still talked to his father and brother too, even though they were on a different helicarrier. (Hunter had asked for a transfer after some relationship with a woman went sour.)

Maria’s monologue sort of petered off, and May considered going back for a third brownie for a moment. The mess was fairly empty by this point, the sky-people having come in, eaten, and left.

May was considering suggesting returning to Maria's room and continuing to hangout there when Maria froze. She was only stock-still for a moment, but it was enough to alert May.

She turned around.

She saw Phil.

He wasn’t as battered as she was dreading.

He wasn’t battered at all.

Somehow, she found herself mere steps away from him; having not been aware that she’d practically ran to him.

She slowed to a walk, her embarrassment indubitably clear on her face.

She reached him, clutching her hands together.

“How are you?” asked Phil, concerned, “Doctor Simmons said you’d be with Maria.”

“You’re back,” was her non-answer.

“Yep, I am,” he agreed.

“I wanted to wait. You missed the check-up,” May wasn’t quite accusatory.

“I know. I’m sorry. How are you?”

“Fine,” she said shortly, “You’re not hurt?”

May examine his body. Even up close he seemed fine.

“Nope, yeah, I’m fine,” Phil replied.

“But you were gone so long?”

“I know. I’m sorry, but I’m fine. Promise.”

May gave him a glare to see if he’d cave. He didn’t.

“How are you, really?” Phil asked.

“Let’s move this little reunion out of the entrance to the Mess,” Maria interrupted, annoyed.

_Why was Maria annoyed?_

Phil guided May back into the Officer’s Mess with a warm, gentle, large hand on her lower back. May didn’t lean slightly into the pressure. No, not at all. Why would she?

Phil excused himself for just a moment to fill a plate with leftover odds-and-ends of the Officer’s lunch.

“He’s back, safe,” Maria said softly, mostly to herself.

“He is,” May replied.

They shared a soft smile.

Several moments later Phil plopped his tray beside the remnants of Maria’s lunch and engulfed her in an ‘I’m glad to be back’ hug. May wasn’t jealous. No, not at all. Why would she be? They were very close, almost family Maria had said. She was the outsider.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Maria murmured against his shoulder.

“Of course.”

Maria glaringly rolled her eyes at Phil, “If you had gotten your stupid ass killed, I would have raised you from the dead to kill you all over again.”

Phil snorted at the threat, turning his attention back to May, “Doctor Simmons said you were quite upset by the results of the 16-week scan?”

May snorted, “ _Doctor Simmons_ was quite upset by the results of the 16-week scan.”

“How are you?” he pressed lightly.

May thought back to what Maria had said about being sad about not getting a perfect daughter. Would Phil be mad at her for not giving him a perfect daughter? Maria said Doctor Simmons couldn’t have done anything to prevent the split mouth –- which may or may not even exist -– from happening? Was it her fault?

May shrugged, “I’m fine.”

Phil stared into her soul.

May’s neck prickled. She resisted showing any weakness by rubbing it.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

May half-nodded.

Phil looked unconvinced, repeating, “This isn’t your fault.”

May shrugged. She still wasn’t certain.

“It’s not your fault,” Maria weighed in.

Phil nodded alongside her, adding, “Besides, it’s only a 50-50 chance Jemma saw what she thought she saw.”

Phil might not be consciously blaming her, but it was certain he didn’t want a daughter with a cleft palate.

May nodded in a kind of acceptance.

“Besides that, how are you doing?” Phil asked voice tinged with relief at changing the topic.

May thought about the isolation –- her neighbors shunning her and Maria being weird -– her unrecognizable body, and her renewed desire to fly and shrugged her shoulders again, “A bit bored, but fine.”

When lying, it’s always important to tell a lie your audience will believe.

“Well, we’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?” he joked.

May gave him a half-hearted smile in return.

Maria talked about nothing as Phil finished his meal.

Phil insisted upon taking over ‘May duty’ and walked her back to her apartment despite her protests.

“I’m glad y- our daughter is fine,” Phil said, earnestness oozing from every orifice.

May nodded and shut the door on his face to prevent herself from doing something stupid –- like kissing him.


	34. Chapter 34

May was laying on her couch, sort of watching something on the television, absent-mindedly playing with her hair. She wasn’t –- strictly speaking -– bored, but she wasn’t feeling particularly energetic either. She wasn’t as bone-tired as she’d been near the end of the first trimester, but neither was she as full of vim and vigor as she’d been a month prior. She just was.

She’d had a good lesson this morning with Maria -– who was a lot more relaxed now that Phil had returned from whatever it was he had been doing.  Maria must have known he was doing something stupidly dangerous, or something…

As she was just _being_ , she began to notice some light flutterings in her stomach.

She examined the butterfly sensations way down low. It wasn’t hunger, or anxiety, or gas.

It must be her daughter!

She clasped her hands over the gentle swell, protecting the tiny life within her. She could feel her daughter!

The fluttering stopped. Her daughter stopped moving.

She pressed down slightly on her bump, trying to get her daughter to start moving again. She didn’t.

May frowned with concentration.

She removed her hands from her belly and consciously slowed her breathing and heart rate, trying to reclaim her serenity to see if _that_ would cause her daughter to resume moving.

Sadly, Celine/Kaia/Amelia didn’t.

After maybe fifteen minutes May gave up on recapturing that astounding sensation of life.

She wanted to tell someone.

She wanted to tell Maria, but she was working (hence the early morning flight lesson). She wanted to tell Kara Lynn, but she wasn’t speaking to her.

She kind of wanted to tell Phil, but also not. It’d be way weird.

She really wanted to tell her mother, but that wasn’t possible. May wouldn’t be able to see her mother for some time. Not until after her daughter, and another baby were born and weaned…

May firmly locked down that longing. It did no one any good to long for the impossible.

May rolled off of the couch, and left her rooms. She made her way to a nearby region she’d rarely been to -– to visit Skye.

Skye was no longer officially her Aide and Translator. Aides were only required for intake and the first trimester, once a guest moved into family housing, her Aide was reassigned and the mother could get aid or counsel from the family housing staff. (May had had little to do with these people, Debbie and Po just seemed a bit off to her, and she had Maria and Phil anyways). May had learned this stuff about Aides from Raina -– back before she began her ostracism campaign.

And May now had a fairly comprehensive understanding of the sky-people’s tongue by now, and with prompting, even Jemma could dumb down her blathering enough for May to understand her.

Anyways, Skye wasn’t ever really an Aide. She’d just been roped into serving as one since she was one of the few people on the helicarrier who spoke May’s language. Apparently Phil’s helicarrier didn’t ‘recruit’ much in ‘China’. Skye’s true job had something to do with computers and electronics and keeping the helicarrier flying.

Without getting too lost, May found Skye’s apartment. She knocked, suddenly apprehensive that Skye might not be home, or might be busy, or might not care.

After mere moments, Skye threw open the door.

“May! Is everything alright?” she asked.

May nodded, her self-doubt doubling by the minute.

“Come in, come in. Long time no see!” (It had been four days; Skye had heard of Phil’s reading lessons and had shared her favorite childhood book about a young girl who went into the army to save her father, with a wisecracking tiny dragon friend).

Skye waved her into her apartment -– it was about the same size as May’s first apartment -– and motioned May into her comfy chair before plopping onto her bed.

“Have you come to admit that you were wrong and I was right about dragons being able to be as impudent as they want to be?”

May smiled at the allusion to their earlier argument, “No… though there is no way a real dragon would act like that.”

May shook her head, “No, the reason I came by is…”

May didn’t know how to say it. It was stupid of her to come over just to be able to tell someone.

“Yes?” Skye prompted, confused.

“Never mind. It’s not important.”

“May!”

May stared at her feet, murmuring, “I felt her move…”

“Really?!?!” Skye squealed, leaping from the bed to do a flailing-hands hoppy dance of sorts.

After Skye had flopped about for a bit, she returned to May, a broad smile on her face.

“I’m so happy for you; the quickening!”

May returned her glowing smile with a small one of her own. Maybe it was good to tell someone.

“What did Phil say? What about Maria?”

May shrugged, “I didn’t want to interrupt them…”

“You haven’t told them yet!?!” Skye nearly shrieked, “Come on!”

May allowed herself to be pulled up and off of the chair, and out the door.

Skye was talking a mile a minute and May could only understand bits and pieces of it. That which she managed to catch pertained to the awesomeness of having another baby Tian-li around, and how stellar it was that May told _her_ first.

Skye talked all the way to a part of the helicarrier May had never been to before –- but not far from the flight simulator. And then Skye talked their way past the _manned_ checkpoint to enter a simply enormous room. How she’d managed that May would never work out.

May resisted Skye’s tugs for a moment to gaze around the new room. The ceilings were very, very tall –- at least three times the height most of the rest of the helicarrier -– and the floor had odd yellow markings, but the thing that really drew May’s interest were the quintets. Of course.

The sleek, powerful bird-machines were perched in even rows about the cavernous room.

May yearned to stop and explore one but Skye forged ahead, making a beeline for a corner –- for a person. For Maria.

Ahh, so this is where Maria worked; May had wondered, but had never pressed.

Maria looked up in concern as the duo made their way across the Aviation Bay. She wrapped up the conversation she was having with someone before walking towards them as well.

“Is everything alright?” Maria asked as they met halfway.

“May felt the baby move!” Skye exulted.

_Well, that was… **fast.**_

“Congratulations!” Maria replied, addressing May.

May squirmed a little bit, “Thanks?”

“That’s really good,” Maria began.

May saw yet another crewmember was making his way towards them.

May didn’t want to stop Maria from doing her important job with such silly news, she drew her shoulders in, “We just wanted to tell you; have to go tell Phil now too.”

Maria nodded with understanding.

Skye gave May a little side-eye for her quick retreat, but said nothing about it, dragging her onwards towards Phil’s office.

When they reached Phil’s office, Skye literally pulled open the door, spilled the news, and shoved May into the room. She closed the door behind May, leaving her and Phil alone in his office with the good news.

Skye was many things. Subtle was not one of them.

“So, you felt her move? What was it like?” Phil asked with a touch of yearning.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a pause.

“So, you felt her move? What was it like?” Phil asked with a touch of yearning.

“Kind of fluttery, like gas maybe, but not?”

“Yeah?” Phil smiled. It was this soft –- dare she say, loving? –- smile, and it made May’s center heat with desire.

She longed to close the small gap between them and hug herself to his sturdy ox-like frame, but with painful honesty, she reminded herself that that loving smile was for their daughter, not for herself.

Instead, she took a step back, and to the side, and slid into what she considered _her_ chair, “Yeah.”

Phil accepted her retreat with a small lip-quirk and nod, returning to his desk.

She settled more fully into her chair. The chair she sat in during reading lessons, the chair she sat in while she attempted to decode the lines and squiggles of the sky-people’s written language, the chair she sat in while she took a momentary break from deciphering to watch Phil. To watch Phil’s gentle fingers fly, performing the skillful dance of ‘paperwork.’

The place where she -– occasionally -– allowed herself to daydream, to image what those gentle, skillful fingers might be able to do to her. How those silky yet firm hands would explore her new curves…

“Why was Maria so worried about you, earlier?” May asked, mostly to distract herself from naughty thoughts.

Phil grimaced, thought, and then replied, “Since, you know…” he gestured at her concealed belly, “I’ve been transitioning to a more administrative position. But part of that job is training new agents during their first mission dirt-side. The missions are supposed to be really easy, like retrieving dangerous tech that has recently been unearthed, but it’s always extra dangerous with inexperienced and easily-frightened men and women. And Maria claims my head isn’t in the game anymore, and that could get me killed.”

Phil ended with a shrug, clearly dismissing Maria’s concerns.

There was just too much information there -– far more truth than May expected -– too much to process right then, so May picked out on piece to fixate upon, “You’re changing your job, but I thought – ?”

Phil nodded calmly, “I’ll always be a SHIELD agent, and I’ll never be 100% safe, but I want to be around for y- our children.”

May didn’t know what to say to that.

She knew what she wanted to do, which was (strangely) to curl up around Phil and keep him here and safe forever. But that was impossible.

“Our children,” May said, her voice atypically thick –- for absolutely no good reason.

“Our children,” Phil echoed, “So she’s doing well?” He gestured to May’s belly with his chin, as if there could be any ambiguity about that question.

May nodded, removing her hand that she and unconsciously placed protectively on her womb.

“Yeah, she’s good.”

Phil’s sappy smile returned. May quivered with unmet –- unknowing –- need.

“Oh! I found another book for you!” he blurted.

“Yeah?” May replied, digging her fingernails into her palms as Phil turned to paw through his desk only to emerge triumphant moments later clutching another battered children’s book.

Despite the fact that the crèche library was supposed to have a monopoly on the remaining children’s books, Phil seemed to be able to unearth a steady stream of new-to-her books.

“Do you want to stay?” Phil asked. She must be imagining any hint of longing in his voice.

Regardless of her overactive imagination, May didn’t have the fortitude to leave him yet. She nodded, adjusting her small back pillow.

Phil walked the book over to her and then returned to his paperwork.

May ran her fingers over the front cover depicting a huge red dog and began deciphering.

She turned the marks into letters and the letters into sounds and the string of sounds into words and the words into meaning. This story happened to be about a pet dog. Yes, a long time ago, before Gods walked the earth, people used to keep and even pamper, canine companions.

This book wasn’t as complicated as some of the others Phil had found and the silly idea of children riding a huge red dog on their way to a ‘class trip’ cracked May up -– not that she showed it. She did have to ask Phil what an ‘oc-ta-pus’ was, but that was fairly typical. Sometime even Phil had difficulties explaining some of the bizarre things that must have been normal a long time ago –- like sharing their single-family houses with all sorts of animals, on purpose.

May paused and watched as Phil typed, lips pursed, forehead creased. Inexplicably she was drawn to him, even looking like this. She wondered what it was he was working on, and if it was worth his stress.  

May returned to her book, trudging through the rest of the story, smiling a bit at the antics of the large red dog. When she finally finished, she set the book down quietly beside her chair and lightly dozed. She didn’t want to bother Phil.

* * *

“Hey May?” Phil called, waking May up from her nap.

“Ugmpf?” she replied.

“Why don’t you return to your place; napping in that chair cannot be very comfortable.”

 _He was right._ May was loath to admit it though.

May re-situated herself in chair and her back and neck twinged in complaint.

She really should return to her apartment, but there was just something about Phil’s office that made it so peaceful, that made it one of her favorite places. But that was silly.

“You’re right,” she said. She propelled herself up and out of the chair, not wanting to return to her empty and unwelcoming apartment, but also unwilling to explain to Phil that she wanted to stay.

She returned the book to him to be returned to the illicit library or whatever, and walked back to her apartment.

The other Guest House women were gathered in the hallway. Some of their conversations stopped when they saw her, and some conversations were continued resolutely. All of the women pointedly ignored her as she threaded her way through them to her door.

Once ‘home’, she released a sigh of annoyance/frustration/confusion that she had held onto tightly whilst walking the gauntlet, and plopped onto her couch.

To ease her mind, she poured her focus into her womb as she rubbed Skye’s anti-stretch mark cream onto the emerging bright red streaks about her stomach and thighs.

She wondered what her daughter’s life would be like. Whether she would grow up laconic like Maria or chatty like Skye. Whether she would grow up to be a scientist or a warrior or a lawyer or an Aide or something completely different. Whether she would grow up to have many friends on many helicarriers, or just a few close friends. Whether she would be happy.

Whether there was anything May could do to ensure her daughter’s happiness.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to SYM. And her lovely, detailed comments.

Time passed.

May had her lessons on the flight simulator nearly every day, in the morning or evening, whenever Maria was free.

Her belly, and her daughter, were growing rapidly, and it seemed like she was always hungry. Phil came by regularly bringing flaxseed-blueberry muffins, carrot-walnut-oatmeal cookies, or kale-infused brownies (those were _really_ gross).

On the flip-side, Phil’s cooking lessons tapered off somewhat, he was getting rather busy with his new more administrative position -– whatever it actually was -– and disappointedly said he didn’t have time for all of the planning and prep work they apparently needed.

That wasn’t to say May didn’t spend time with him, in fact she spent quite a bit of time in his office practicing her reading. They both pretended that was all there was to that.

May did occasionally need help turning letters into a word, and more frequently understanding what that word meant, but it didn’t necessarily need be Phil who helped her, and she didn’t require immediate help. But they both ignored those facts.

Ever since May felt Kaia/Amelia/Celine move for the first time, she’d felt less hesitant to ‘interrupt’ Phil’s work and would just slip into his office when she wanted to read. Phil would look up, smile, and return to his work. She would pick up whatever book he had placed on her chair -- it was a new chair, larger and more comfortable, with a matching footrest that seemed out of place with the rest of the room -- and read for a while and then daydream or doze.

She wasn’t nearly as tired as she had been, but for some reason she found it difficult to focus. Not on important things, like flying, _that_ she could focus fine upon; but on boring things like a book about an evil cat with a hat.

Every once in a while Phil did have to -- apologetically -- turn on some sort of shiny-sparkly-sound-sucking thing he called a ‘D-field’ to protect ‘sensitive’ information when he talked to people through a button in his desk. May found she didn’t really care.

She wasn’t too curious about the sensitive information or how he could talk to people far away using a button. It wasn't her place, and it didn’t really seem important. She wasn’t annoyed that Phil was keeping secrets, but she did like the shimmer of the D-field. It was pretty, and shiny.

When she wasn’t flying or reading or sleeping or eating, she was out and about. She daydreamed on the observation deck, or walked around or did very mild Qigong in the massive garden, or hung out with Skye when she wasn’t working. Things were almost, dare she say, good.

One time Skye did ask why she spent so little time in her apartment. In a moment of truthfulness, May might have slipped up and told her that she didn’t like it, that it was unfriendly. When Skye pushed a bit more, May backtracked and said that the apartment was too big, too empty. Skye let that explanation stand, joking that it wasn’t going to be too empty for much longer.

Time passed.

The lessons on the flight simulator stopped getting harder; they just sort of leveled off at ‘challenging’.

The books Phil found were getting more difficult, but May didn’t care much about them, except for the pleased, proud smile Phil would get when she finished another one.

May’s twenty-week check-up came and went. She was given a clean bill of health by Doctor Simmons, and her steady weight gain of 2 kilograms over the 4 weeks was thoroughly approved of. Even though Doctor Simmons and another doctor called in especially from another helicarrier searched diligently, they could not find definitive evidence one way or the other about Kaia/Amelia/Celine’s potential cleft palate.

Phil watched the monitor just as eagerly as May thought he would during the sixteen-week check-up, and they got into a rather heated argument over whether the baby’s nose was more like May’s or Phil’s -- their astounded audience of the two medical practitioners were soundly ignored.

Phil took the lack of evidence for the cleft palate as cause to celebrate (May rather thought the opposite; that the lack of evidence disputing the cleft palate was more telling, but she held her tongue, it wouldn’t do anyone any good to crush Phil’s hopes) and he proposed a celebratory dinner two days hence.

Doctor Simmons, Skye, Maria, and obviously May were invited, and all but Doctor Simmons eagerly accepted the invitation for a Phil-made meal. Doctor Simmons was still clearly single-mindedly focused on the ‘cleft-palate issue’.

Despite May’s misgivings over jumping to conclusions prematurely, she was quite looking forward to the dinner. Phil’s food really was better than other sky-people food, and it would be to have a nice meal with her favorite people.

The morning before the celebratory dinner, May went to Phil’s office, to read, only to find it empty -- and locked.

Completely at loose ends, she decided some mediation in the gardens was in order.

When she reached the gardens, she found to her surprise, Phil bent over a godsbone planter harvesting some dark green vegetables!

Sparing but a few moments to admire his shapely and firm posterior, she retreated, unannounced.

On one level she had known that the gardens were not simply for pleasure, sky-people needed to eat too, but on another the simple, dirt-side action of actually harvesting his own food seemed so divorced from the crisp, clean, inscrutable nature of the Phil Coulson she knew.

She returned to her apartment pondering what else about Phil Coulson she did not yet know, and did not let the petty sullenness of the other Guests annoy her.

When evening and time for the celebratory dinner came, May was ready. She had put uncommon effort into her appearance -- she brushed her hair until it shone, donned a loose, long Phil-eye blue tunic-dress, and even placed lighter blue, sky blue hair clips in her hair.

She did not examine why she was putting such effort into her appearance. It was a celebratory dinner, right?

She donned her now habitual callous façade for the walk through The Guest House, and arrived at Phil’s apartment _totally_ unintentionally early.


	37. Chapter 37

Phil promptly answered his door chime and graciously welcomed her into his home. She didn’t know if she should admit to him the fact that she’d been in his home unannounced before –- with a prank-focused Maria –- and decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

Phil led her through the living room to the kitchen/dining area and pulled out a chair. May thankfully took it. She wasn’t –- quite –- at the waddling stage, but her center of balance was changing daily and her burgeoning baby-bump was now clearly visible to all. Ugh.

The table was immaculately set for four –- blue cloth napkins bound by red-and-white striped rings baring a red and white shield were perched on a blue-and-white plate at each of the table settings.

Phil sat her in the seat with the best view of the kitchen, and with a half-apologetic smile he returned to his dinner preparations.

His kitchen was far more elaborate than hers, and she didn’t recognize even half of the things, but they all had a dinged, lived-in, yet well-cared-for sort of appearance that relaxed May.

Everything about the sky-people seemed so perfect, so pristine, so untouchable, except for Phil. He was eminently touchable. **No** , bad May.

May watched the lines of his back and the arch of his neck as he stirred something in a pan over a well-controlled open flame.

 _What was it that Maria called his yearning to cook, ‘old-fashioned’?_ May decided she rather liked ‘old-fashioned’.

After some time watching entranced as Phil finished his meal preparations, his door chime went off. With an arched eyebrow he entreated May to get the door, and it almost seemed right to welcome Skye into Phil’s home.

May felt an odd upwell of pride as Skye complemented the smells of Phil’s cooking. She pushed those feelings and her puzzlement about said feelings aside for later.

Skye teased Phil over his Captain America memorabilia, and fairly quickly after Skye's arrival, Maria arrived too, carrying a much prized bottle -– given the reaction of the two others -– of some sort.

Phil’s dinner preparations complete, he chivvied the rambunctious girl –- and Maria –- to the table and proudly unveiled a diversity of appetizers.

Some of the appetizers (like the crunchy-creamy-cheesy rice balls) May had had before, others like the spicy-smooth green dip were new to her, but all were delicious.

Maria decanted the contents of the bottle –- something fermented by the smell and the scant mouthful Maria permitted May, for the baby. May was fine with the limitation; she was content with the fizzy lemonade Phil offered her instead, though the other three imbibed readily and with great gusto.

Their conversations focused upon the food, and complements abounded. Skye was quite unfamiliar with many of the items on the table, and quite curious.

May rather enjoyed Phil’s blushingly bashful reaction to the bevy of complements. Pink really suited his skin tone.

After the nearly inexhaustible topic of the appetizers had eventually been exhausted, the conversation turned to the object of the celebration: May’s pregnancy.

Skye congratulated May upon passing the halfway mark, and with a shock of surprise May realized it was true. Thirty-eight weeks after artificial insemination was the point of a ‘full-term’ pregnancy. May had been on the helicarrier almost eight months, and –- if everything went according to plan –- in another four and a half months, she’d meet her daughter for the first time.

Conversations about baby names, the passage of time, and such ebbed and flowed around her and May couldn’t thick of another a time when she had been surrounded by such conviviality.

Maria teased Phil about his childhood instance upon having three babies and naming each one Steve.

Phil turned an even darker shade of pink as Skye joined in the good-natured jibing, questioning his odd desire for three children and proclaiming that Tian-li was a far better name for a little girl than Steve.

May even joined in and disabused Skye of the notion that she’d let her daughter be named after her, quipping that Ste-ven was a perfectly acceptable name.

Skye stared at her in disbelief, which was only heightened when May’s façade broke and she started laughing at Skye’s shocked face.

The resulting feedback loop of shock and laughter set the two others roaring with laughter until Phil begged off to catch his breath and wipe the laughter-tears from his eyes.

A far more somber Phil returned from the kitchen with the main meal –- a spinach, onion, and ham quiche that appealed to both eye and mouth. Though why Phil spent the time to carefully top the eggy mixture with the concentric circles of ham, red onion, and cooked spinach, May would never know.

Phil received many complements for the main meal as well, and the conversation eventually turned to everyone’s day. Maria had had to train some ham-handed fools on a new weapon that would as likely as not kill them –- even though it was non-lethal (they were just _that_ stupid).

Skye had been doing something with something to prepare for something else. May didn’t understand most of the words she used and as Maria and Phil nodded along with comprehension, May didn’t want to ask stupid questions.

Phil said he’d spent most of the day getting ingredients and preparing the meal, which led to another round of complements.

Then it was May’s turn.

What **had** she done today? She’d woken up the early morning to go pee, and since she didn’t have a morning flight lesson she went back to bed and slept late. When she eventually woke up for real, she broke her fast, bathed, and then applied some of Skye’s anti-stretchmark cream. She read over Maria’s Airheart (which was confusingly spelled Earhart) book a few times, though at this point she’d read it so many times it was really more memorization than true reading. She watched television until she got bored and decided to go bother Phil. Who hadn’t been in his office, but had been in the garden. She had retreated from the garden and Phil’s shapely rear only to dodge the other mothers and return home. There she watched some more television, ate lunch, watched more television, primped, and went to the party _._

“Not much,” was her answer.

Her friends pestered and inquired, expressing true interest, but May didn’t have anything more to tell. She’d become a rather desultory kept woman.

Oddly enough, Skye was her savior, injecting that she’d been growing a person, which was a pretty nifty thing to do.

May smiled in thanks, and the conversation pivoted away once more.

Eventually Phil cleared off the table to make room for dessert, which happened to be the same chocolate mousse he had served her their first meal together oh so long ago. Their first meal together when she was so frustrated, bored, and preeminently powerless.

The first mouthful of the rich, creamy, sweet and bitter fluff brought her back to that helpless and utter confused time.

She blinked, breathed, and centered herself in the present, looking around at the lively, animated faces of her friends. She recalled the knowledge that she now understood their spoken, and much of their written language. She recalled the fact that she had (almost) complete freedom of the helicarrier, had basically maxed out the flight simulator, and had their friendship.

Her situation had vastly improved in the six or so months since, and for some reason, she had some alien optimism that her situation would only continue to improve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that happy note, I'm sad to announce a mini-hiatus. The next chapter is the most critical one for the whole story, and RL has been too busy for me to beat next bit into the shape it needs to be. I don't know when I'll get the time/energy to sort it out, but I won't abandon this story.  
> AN - 5/30/15 RL has settled down (hopefully for a while) and I've re-read and re-edited the what's been posted (don't worry, no significant changes). Now, I am starting to work on the rest of the story, so yay!


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time on The Ox and the Tiger:
> 
> Mai Qiaolian wakes in a bizarre square chamber only to be told by Tian-li (Skye) and Phil Coulson that they want her babies. Qiaolian realizes she cannot escape. The first round of artificial insemination fails, and Qiaolian grows frustrated. She destroys the security camera in her room, impressing Coulson. Coulson begins to 'distract' Qiaolian, bringing her homemade food, taking her to the garden, the observation deck, and to the gym to meet Maria Hill. 
> 
> The third round of AI is finally successful. About seven weeks after this successful fertilization, May begins to feel sick and Maria takes her to a flight simulator. May has a miscarriage-scare and beats up two guard to get to the med-bay. Six weeks after this, May's morning sickness eases, May flies in the simulator for the first time, Phil gives her cooking lessons, and she begins to think naughty thoughts about him.
> 
> Five weeks later, May feels the first fluttery kicks of their daughter; joyfully, she tells Skye, Maria, and Phil. After May's 20-week check-up Phil invites the gang over for dinner. May is truly happy.

May, Maria, Skye, and Phil talked long into the night, eating, drinking, and generally making merry.

Despite this, both Maria and May were up early the next morning for their flight lesson. Maria was well used to thriving on minimal sleep, and there was no way May was going to miss a minute of flight-time for something as mundane as mere sleep.

May went through the pre-flight checks as if it were second nature. Before long they were in the air, soaring over simulated landscapes, fighting against a strong headwind.

May had almost worked up the courage to confront Maria about the fact that simulations hadn’t gotten any more difficult for quite awhile, and the possibility of flying for real, when Phil stormed into the simulator mid-session completely irate.

His eyes met May’s for the merest fraction of a second before he homed in on Maria.

“How dare you?” he yelled. “All this time you’ve been lying to me. Mediation lessons my ass, Maria!”

May sunk into her seat slightly, retreating until she could get a lay of the land.

“I looked all over the place for you two this morning. I had to use my level seven security clearance to find you. You know, Maria, reprogramming the computer to obscure your location is a court martial-able offense!” Phil gesticulated wildly with one hand, which only drew May’s attention to the largish plastic tub under his other arm.

They crashed into a simulated mountain range, wrecking May’s sterling record. Only May even noticed.

“I know you think I’ve been compromised, that I’ll let my romantic and old-fashioned notions get myself killed, but why for all that is holy, would you sabotage this?”

Maria crawled out of her seat and fired back, “Sabotage? If that what you think _this_ is, then your head is even more firmly lodged up your ass than I thought physically possible to and still remain breathing!”

“What else would you call teaching her how to fly? How to _leave_ m- How to leave!” Phil retorted.

“Say what to mean you sap: ‘Leave you!’? You really are the romantic dunce I always pegged you for! I never thought you were so blind though!” With that Maria stormed out of the room leaving May alone with the red-faced Phil.

Phil just stood there, breathing, and for the first time since the breakthrough bleeding three months ago, May was afraid. May forced herself up and out of the pilot’s seat, repressing the unhelpful instinct to hide behind the chair. Its slight cover wouldn’t protect her, and she wasn’t afraid of _Phil_ anyways.

Phil sorted out his slightly disheveled clothes and had plastered patently benign smile on his face. His polite mask hurt worse than any painful truth he might say.

“Leave you?” she pressed.

“Let’s get you back to your roo-”

“No, Phil!” she interrupted. “I’m not gonna let you just pretend that nothing happened. _I_ asked Maria for the flying lessons! I didn’t know that you didn’t know, but that wouldn’t have made much of difference.”

Phil tried to interrupt, May cut him off.

“I love flying. I’ve dreamt of flying since I woke up on the helicarrier – no, even before. Flying is my destiny. Flying makes me whole! I love the freedom, the view, the solitude.”

May caught a glimpse of sadness seeping through Phil’s polite mask.

“But I’m not learning to fly to escape. I haven’t thought of escape in …” The truth of May’s words resonated within her.

_When **was** the last time I thought about escaping? When did I stop, and why? _

Phil took advantage of her introspection to manhandle her out of the flight simulator. She could have fought back, but she didn’t even resist. The flight simulator was a happy place, not a place for this sort of truth-telling.

_I haven’t thought of escaping in many months. Why haven’t I thought of escape? Even as I have changed, the thought hasn’t crossed my mind in ages. Even as I've learned that the sky-people’s science-magic wasn’t infallible, I haven’t reconsidered the idea. Why was that?_

Phil led her to the Officer’s Mess. It was nearly empty. It was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. He opened the plastic tub he’d been carrying since he barged into the flight simulation and wordless handed her a muffin. It was utterly taste-less.

They chewed in silence. May thought back over Maria and Phil’s shouted truths.

_One: Phil hadn’t known that Maria was teaching me to fly._

_Two: Maria had been telling Phil that they were meditating, and tricked the computer into hiding them._

_Three: Phil didn’t want me to leave **him**._

_Four: Maria thought Phil was romantic and old-fashioned?_

She had a sudden realization, “You care about me?”

“Well, there is a certain degree of affection that arises when one spends time…” Phil babbled, half a muffin sketching symbols in the air as he talked. May couldn’t stand it.

“No. **You** _care_ about **me**!”

Phil released a defeated sigh, “Yes. I care about you.” His shoulders hunched and his face fell.

“Not just about her?” May placed a hand on her burgeoning baby bump.

“Of course!” Phil sounded almost insulted.

Something like joy rose up within her.

“You don’t want me to leave, because you don’t want me to leave. Not because you don’t want me to take Amelia/Kaia/Celine with me.”

“Yeah,” Phil studied his muffin, acting ashamed.

“Why are you embarrassed now?” May pressed.

“It’s wrong. These… feelings that I have for you? They’re not natural. They’re practically illegal on some helicarriers…”

May snorted in derision for what the sky-people though was and was not natural, and kissed Phil on top of his big, shiny forehead.

_Now why did I just do that?!?!_

May grabbed another tasteless muffin and fled, needing some time to think about what he had just said, how she had responded, and about how it made her feel.


	39. Chapter 39

May walked through the steel hallways of the helicarrier chewing and yet not tasting the muffin. Her mind raced round and round and round and she did not perceive the sky-people who shared the hallways with her.

_What did I just do, and what did it mean?_

May began at the beginning, again.

_One: Phil didn’t want me to leave him, which made me happy._

_Two: I haven’t been thinking about escaping for months._

_Three: Phil cared about me, not just our baby._

_Four: I feel more comfortable in Phil’s presence that anywhere else._

_Five: I’ve been having naughty thoughts about Phil for weeks._

_Six: Phil thought his feelings for me were wrong, which made me feel protective._

_Seven: Maria thought Phil was romantic and old-fashioned, and **blind**?_

_Eight: I just kissed Phil. On the forehead, but still._

Well, shit.

_Do I love him?_

May swallowed the rest of the chalk-dry muffin and made a beeline toward the giant cave-place with the quinjets, where Maria worked. She needed help. **Now.**

_Do I love him?_

Without Skye it was considerably more difficult to talk her way into the huge room with the quinjets, but May did manage to convince the guards to call Maria.

May waited patiently –- at least on the outside. If she had been in less inner turmoil, she would have tried to catch a better glimpse at a gorgeous quinjet, but alas.

When Maria arrived, she looked irritated by the interruption, but thankfully didn’t say anything about it in front of the strange guards. Instead she took May by the elbow and led her down a hallway away from the bustle until they reached some little room. Whatever its original purpose was, May couldn’t tell, but it was private.

“Look, I know. I probably shouldn’t have lied to Phil about the flying lessons, but now is not the right time,” Maria began.

“Yes, no, right. No. I’m here to talk about something else,” May replied.

“Yes?” Maria waited with some degree of patience.

“I think, no, I know that Phil cares for me. And I like that. And I think… I love him?” May babbled.

Maria snorted and then muttered softly (May had keen hearing), “You two idiots certainly deserve each other.”

Much louder she continued, “Of course Phil ‘cares’ for you. He’s been head-over-heels in love with you since the day you went all ‘warrior princess’ on the security camera. He didn’t know it then, but it was clear to me that he was.”

“As for you, if you haven’t been worrying about Phil’s wellbeing for at least a month I’ll eat emergency rations for a week!”

May inclined her head, indicating that Maria wasn’t wrong.

Maria smiled -– sort of –- and said, “Of course you love each other.”

Maria’s matter of fact statement echoed within May. Her knees began to shake, unable to support her anymore. She grabbed the wall and lowered herself down to the dusty floor of the closet-thing.

Maria looked at her with mild concern. May brushed off Maria’s awkward offer of assistance. She just needed a bit of time.

May’s belly made wrapping her arms around her legs more than a bit difficult, but she did manage it.

She breathed in for the count of six, held her breath for the count of six, and then released her breath slowly over the count of six.

In. _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Hold. _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Out. _One, two, three, four, five, six._

In. Hold. Out.

_Of **course** you love each other._

Was it really so obvious? What did everybody think about them? Did they think they were wrong like Phil, or cute like Maria; and now that she thought about it, Skye, too.

_Of course **you** love each other._

But why did she feel these things towards Phil. Was it just the changing hormones like Doctor Simmons said? Or was it something real? Did she want it to be really real?

_Of course you **love** each other._

What was love? Filial piety? The bonds of brotherhood? Wanting to be near somebody and see their silly little smiles and their big goofy grins? Wanting to hear about their day, and tell them about yours?

_Of course you love **each other.**_

And most mysterious of all, why did Phil have feelings for her? Was it just some holdover from before Gods walked the earth, an old-fashioned desire of his to have a storybook family? Or was it real?

May did not know the answer to any of these questions, but she needed to accept that and breathe. Accept what she did and did not know and just breathe.

In.  _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Hold. _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Out. _One, two, three, four, five, six._

By the time May had lowered her heart rate and otherwise gotten ahold of herself, Maria had disappeared.

May was grateful she could have her little ‘freak-out session’ in peace. However, now that she had calmed down a bit, she realized her lower back was aching from her position and standing up again would be a real treat.

She straightened her legs, rolled over halfway –- just enough to get her legs under herself -– and after a few attempts pushed off of the floor and hung onto the wall until she was upright at last. Moving was just going to get more and more difficult these next 18 weeks or so.

Also, she was never going to take being spry and healthy for granted again.

Before May could decide where she wanted to go after she left the closet, and what she wanted to do, she heard soft knocking coming from the vicinity of the closet door.

“Come in?” she called.

Maria entered, looking slightly abashed, carrying a steaming mug.

“I brought you some hot cocoa?”

“Thanks.” May took the mug and gave it a cautious sip. It was warm and rich and comforting.

“Um, you’re welcome.” Maria replied.

They stood in silence for a long moment.

“What does this mean, Maria?” May asked.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Maria answered with a snort.

May drank the hot cocoa.

“What do you want it to mean?” Maria asked cautiously.

May thought a moment before responding, “I don’t know.”

Maria stood in companionable silence.

“Well, I’ll tell you what: Think on that, figure out what you want, and then let Phil know. That ‘little brother’ of mine is so hard on himself, so self-denying, that nothing is going to happen without you letting him know it’s what you **really** want.”

May finished off the cocoa, “I want to fly. For real.”

Maria quirked a smile, “I know you do. And once Phil cools down a bit, we’ll figure out a way for you to get some real flight time. But that’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” May replied, lips curling up in response to Maria’s grin, “But that’s all I know for certain.”

Maria nodded, once, firmly, and wordlessly offered to take back the empty mug.

May handed over the mug, and left the closet with a smile of thanks. She had a lot of thinking to do.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which May thinks, and dreams.

May walked home in a daze. She threaded through the crowds of mothers and children in the hallway of The Guest House without pause.

She grabbed a meal-replacement bar for lunch, and ran herself a nice, warm bath. She floated in the tub, baby bump protruding from the water, and thought.

_What do I want?_

She thought while she dried off her unfamiliar curves and strangely silky hair.

_What do I really want?_

She thought as she applied Skye’s anti-stretchmark cream to the red slashes streaking her thighs and belly.

_What do I want?_

She thought on the couch, the TV turned on in a pale attempt at a distraction.

_What do I really want?_

She thought as she ate dinner and readied herself for bed.

_What do I want?_

She dreamt.

She dreamt that she slept next to Phil; his arms were wrapped protectively around her ballooning belly, his solid body was a warm weight against her back. He woke, shifted, and pressed soft kisses on her shoulder. Her soul was full, glowing, elated.

“What do you and the baby want for breakfast this morning? Pancakes? I think we still have some strawberries to go with them.” Phil asked.

May rolled over to meet his gaze and just smiled sleepily.

Suddenly –- as in the nature of dreams –- her bed was full of squirming child. A little girl, maybe three winters old, with Phil’s blue eyes and May’s golden skin bounced on the vaguely familiar bed. It was Phil’s bed, in Phil’s apartment.

Phil grabbed the little girl, tossing her squealing into the air. He deftly caught her, kissing the top of her silken black head.

“May, don’t ever leave us,” dream-Phil said, arms full of giggling, squirming girl in Captain America pajamas.

“Momma, don’t leave us, Momma. Momma please stay!” her daughter cried in May’s mother tongue.

May jerked awake, unable to determine if she had had a dream or a nightmare.

She set aside trying to figure _that_ out until later, but still, it took her quite a while to get back to sleep, even with her own arms wrapped around her stomach and a bulky pillow supporting her back.

May awoke late the next morning with a twigged neck. She rushed through her morning routine, and hurried to the flight simulator. Maria waited outside, an apologetic glimmer in her eyes.

May stopped in her tracks, dread building in her stomach.

“I’m sorry May, but your flight training has been put on hold.” Maria said.

“What!” They couldn’t do that to her! They just couldn’t take the sky from her!

“I know. I’m sorry. But it’s just temporary. Phil is already working on getting the appropriate approval from Hand and Fury.”

May sagged. Flying was her joy. The sky-people had already taken her freedom, and now they were taking her _illusion_ of freedom too…

She straightened her shoulders; it wasn’t Maria’s fault. “Thank you Maria,” she said.

“I’m so sorry, May. We’re working on it.”

May nodded and turned away. She tried to walk away normally instead of trudging away morosely, but she was pretty sure she failed.

May didn’t want to spend another day caged in her room –- in her own head –- so she made her way to the gardens. Perhaps the living, growing, green things would brighten her day.

She threaded her way through the mid-morning crowds –- a veritable swarm of humanity that would have shocked her a mere six months ago -– to get to the garden.

The moist air redolent with earth and life and growing things assaulted her nose. Some of the tension in her shoulders eased. She had adapted to this strange helicarrier, the strange hallways, even the oddly-colored lights, but she felt more real, more balanced here, in the garden, surrounded by trees and bushes and dirt.

She walked amongst the plants. She walked among the foreign fruit and the familiar vegetation, soaking up the verdant life.

And yet, these plants might be alive, might be happy, might even be bearing fruit, but they were still trapped. Trapped in neat rows, trapped in cement boxes, trapped in this artificial garden on this flying village.

May stopped, dejected. The garden no longer soothed her.

_And_ she was getting a bit hungry. She returned to her room, ate a ginger biscuit, and considered what she wanted.

Time passed slowly without the joy of flight to sustain her. She hadn’t the focus or will to practice her reading, and thought of seeking out Skye to ‘hang’ with was unpalatable.

She thought about what she wanted, in life, for her daughter, from Phil.

She tried not to dream, or consider the implications of her dreams _too_ closely.

May grew more closed off, spending time planning for her daughter’s arrival. This was one thing she could most certainly count upon.

She organized the baby things that had been neatly stored when she had moved into the apartment. She sorted the tiny clothes from the smaller diapers.

The clothes were so tiny it was hard to imagine a person being so small, yet as big as her stomach was getting already, it was a good thing Kaia/Amelia/Celine wasn’t going to be any bigger.

Some of the tiny clothes had animals on them -– a butterfly, a dog, or an odd long-nosed blue thing Skye had called an ‘elephant’. Others had toys on them, or at least the pictures matched the array of objects May saw the neighbor children playing with. May’s favorite tiny outfit had a red airplane –- something in between Amelia Earhart’s biplane and Maria’s quintet –- on the front. May couldn’t wait to see her daughter in that. She would be so cute.


	41. Chapter 41

About a week after Phil caught May flying and their Talk, May heard knocking on her door.

She was surprised and a bit confused. Who would come knocking on her door? Her neighbors were avoiding her like the Plague, she hadn’t heard from Phil or Maria since… And Skye was on loan to another Helicarrier for another week or so.

When she opened her door, she was surprised to see Maria. May had a fleeting hope that she was here to tell her that the flight lessons were back on, but something about the carefully blank expression on her face made May realize that that hope was false.

After a cursory attempt at greetings and welcome, Maria cut to the chase: “You need to stop moping.”

What? “I’m not moping!”

“Then you need to stop hiding. Phil thinks you are hiding from him, from his feelings for you, which has led to him moping around these past six days.”

May just stood there, non-responsive.

“Look, you don’t actually have to decide one way or another, but if you care about Phil like I know you do; could you please just tell him that his feelings for you don’t scare you, at least not in a bad way?”

“But…”

“I’m not telling you **what** to feel, just, talk to Phil. Yeah?”

May nodded in agreement. Maria stood around awkwardly before adding, “We’re making progress on getting the proper approval for you flying for real. Hand has signed off on it, but apparently Fury needs to present it to the World Security Council. There’s a lot of bureaucracy but Phil is confident the correct decision will be made.”

May grimaced at the mention of bureaucracy –- indomitable bureaucracy -– but she knew Maria was doing her best. She also understood more fully why Maria didn’t ask for permission in the first place. Sky-people and their limitless rules!

Maria -– having said her piece -– left abruptly.

May thought. She supposed she did need to talk to Phil, sooner rather than later, but she wasn’t ready. Not yet.

* * *

It took May another day and a half to figure out what she wanted to say to Phil. And it took her another half-day to work up the courage to go talk to him. To go change **everything**.

She walked to his office and knocked. She rubbed her stomach nervously.

Phil opened the door.

“We have to talk. Actually, I have to talk and you have to listen,” May blurted out.

Phil nodded cautiously.

“Look. I don’t know how I feel. Or rather, I don’t know how I feel about how I feel. And you’re just going to have to accept that.”

Phil nodded again, the confusion on his face lessening.

“If we…” she made a complicated knotted gesture with her hands unable to put her hopes and fears into words -- not while he was watching her like that. “You have to accept that it’s not a promise. I have to be able to change my mind.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Phil stumbled over his tongue to assure her.

“I’m still talking,” May declared.

Phil clenched his mouth shut.

“You have to promise me I can still go home. After. If I want to.”

Phil nodded vigorously, his clear blue eyes pleading.

“And you have to promise that no matter what, you’ll still care for our daughter.”

Phil’s eyes grew misty, but he nodded firmly.

“Okay?”

Phil was quiet.

“You can talk now,” May said with a tinge of mirth.

Phil chuckled -– tensely –- “Do you want to come in?”

May felt her cheeks heat. She had been so set on saying what she had practiced saying that she hadn’t realized she was still in the hallway saying all of _that_ where anyone could hear.

“Yeah,” she replied meekly. She rubbed her stomach in a half-conscious soothing gesture.

Once she had gotten settled in her chair in Phil’s office (Phil hovering nervously) the conversation resumed.

“So…” Phil began.

“So.” May replied unhelpfully.

After yet another long pause Phil began, “I _like_ you.”

“I like you too,” May admitted aloud.

“Are you sure?” Phil asked, incredulous.

May snorted.

“I mean, it’s okay if you don’t. There won’t be any… consequences,” Phil paced restlessly, “It’s certainly not going to affect how I feel about our daughter, or... anything.”

May suppressed a fond yet exasperated smile.

“I like your smiles. I like your kindness. I like your unflappability. I like your eyes. I like your food. I like your hands.”

Phil grew more and more pink as May listed off his good qualities.

“I like how you turn pink, it’s adorable. I like your love for Captain America. I like your patience when teaching me how to read.”

Many emotions flashed across Phil’s face, many far too quickly for May to catch and catalogue.

Phil settled a wry smile on his face, and attempted to joke, “Are you sure you don’t just like me for my food? My chocolate mousse has been known to elicit spontaneous marriage proposals.”

May just shook her head. She couldn’t encourage such behavior.

Phil sighed quietly, fiddled with the edges of his shirtsleeves and began, “I’ve loved you since you stared me down over that battered security camera, ready to face the consequences of your actions. I knew from that moment I couldn’t just stand idly by. I needed to make your life here as good as possible. I needed to make you _happy_.”

May’s insides melted in tenderness and… love, but she held her tongue. She had said her bit; it was Phil’s turn now.

“I know I’m a romantic idiot,” he smiled wryly, “I’ve never wanted just an orgasm friend _de jour_ like Maria. Or a pair of children I could see only once a month. I’ve always wanted a _true_ family. But I know that is impossible. So I threw myself into my work, maintained friendships, and baked.”

May reached for his hands, needing to connect and comfort him somehow. He stepped closer and clasped her hands.

He stared at their joined hands, “But then you came along.”

He glanced up from their hands, looking May straight in the eye, “I’ve been fascinated with you since the day I met you, ready to defend your unborn children with your bare hands. So strong, so fierce, so uncowed.”

May leaned forward. So did Phil. She could feel the soft brush of his breath on her face.

Phil’s eyes were so blue. May could see the beauty and joy of the sky reflected back in them. She leaned forward until there was a mere thumbs-width between them.

Phil disentangled one hand from where they grasped one another and reached up towards her face. He licked his lips.

May closed her eyes in anticipation.


	42. Chapter 42

May leaned forward. So did Phil. She could feel the soft brush of his breath on her cheek.

Phil’s eyes were so blue. May could see the beauty and joy of the sky reflected back in them. She leaned forward until there was a mere thumbs-width between them.

Phil disentangled one hand from where they grasped one another and reached up towards her face. He licked his lips.

May closed her eyes in anticipation.

There was no press of lips on lips; instead Phil’s hands were suddenly not there, and she heard a muffled thump.

May’s eyes flew open; Phil was stumbling up, hands flailing. He righted his chair. He must have tripped, but how? His chair was behind him, not in the way at all.

Phil’s eyes were downcast, refusing to meet May’s. He retreated even further, setting his chair, and himself back behind his desk.

May was confused. She was certain they were going to kiss, and now Phil was hiding?

“So, um, good talk. But, uh, I have to finish this report by noon, so… ” Phil babbled.

May’s confusion lifted. Earlier, Phil had said that his feelings for her were wrong. Her heart sank; Phil was ashamed.

Perhaps he felt the same shame some people felt for desiring someone of their same sex, or perhaps is was the same shame Weiyin felt for desiring her close cousin, a man she could never have. Phil was ashamed, shame _she_ was causing.

With May’s heart below her stomach, she nodded, accepting Phil’s flimsy excuse. If she demanded he accept her not really knowing what she felt, it was only fair she not force herself upon him either. Right?

May backed out of Phil’s office, and wrapped her arms around herself as she walked away. Their meeting had (perhaps) gone better than her worst fears, but it had certainly gone worse than she had hoped.

Once she had threaded her way out of the maze of office hallways, she decided to head to the observation deck. Her walk was unremarkable.

She stared out at the blue of the sky and the rolling hills of green beneath her, and rocked herself, focusing on the landscape, focusing anything but analyzing how empty she felt knowing that Phil cared for her, and this exact care caused him shame. She could not endure thinking about this, and yet she could not think about anything else.

Her heart ached.

She didn’t know what she could do to fix this. She didn’t think there was anything she _could_ do to fix it.

She mourned her half-dreamt dreams. Her dreams of a surreal, unreal, yet also very real life with Phil. She could not do that to him. She couldn’t seek her own happiness if it blighted his very soul, a soul she cared for. 

After several hours of introspection, her stomach goaded her into leaving the observation in search of food. On her way out, she gazed out the glass to the expanse of Phil-blue sky and thought that the Sky-people were so foreign, so alien. She would endeavor to learn why Phil’s feelings for her were wrong, and if there was some way to make _them_ right in the eyes of the Sky-people.

She didn’t know Phil’s mind; they had already failed to communicate properly on several important things, but this was at least a place to start.

At first she attempted to understand the Sky-people’s taboo against Guest mothers and Host fathers having feelings by watching television. It wasn’t very enlightening. Many of the shows -– like the children’s books –- were set before Gods walked the earth. But it was where she started.

* * *

Two days later there was another knock on May’s door.

Once again she hoped it was Maria bearing news that they could resume their flight training. But when May opened her door, she saw Phil instead.

Phil stood, as uncomfortable as she’d ever seen him (perhaps even more so), holding a tray of muffins, being stared at by a two-year-old little girl.

“Come on in,” May greeted him, and had to hide an amused smirk at how quickly Phil retreated into her room, and how utterly relieved Phil was when she closed the door.

She could not restrain an eyebrow quirk to ask him why that was.

“That girl, she just stared and stared at me. I tried talking to her, but she wouldn’t answer. Everywhere I went, her eyes kept following me. It was so creepy!”

Phil shuddered exaggeratedly.

May grinned at her dork. And then her stomach sunk. He wasn’t hers. She pushed that unhelpful thought aside.

“How are you, aside from being spooked by a two-year-old?” May deadpanned.

“A very creepy two-year-old, I must add!”

May rolled her eyes. She could live with this for the next three or four years.

Phil gave one more theatrical shudder before continuing, “I’ve brought you some muffins.”

He held out the tray. May inspected them.

“Pumpkin chocolate-chip.”

Chocolate was all May needed to hear. She grabbed one of the still-warm baked goods and peeled off the wrapper.

It was pretty tasty. It was flavored with unusual spices and the warm, rich essence of pumpkin. The sharper, sweeter pockets of chocolate dotted the muffin, adding another delicious layer.

Over the remains of her muffin, she examined Phil once more.

Phil still looked very uncomfortable. He kept shifting his weight from foot to foot as if he wanted to flee, his unburdened hand played with the edges of his shirt, and his eyes darted all around the room, never resting anywhere for more than a breath or two.

The delightful muffin turned into lead in May’s stomach.

“Tasty,” was all that she said.

Phil smiled –- briefly –- and set the tray down on May’s kitchen counter.

“You can share the rest with your friends.”

May nodded. She was unwilling to voice aloud the fact that with Skye temporarily missing, and Phil acting like this, she really only had one friend.

“Thank you?” May asked, wordlessly querying as to why Phil was visiting.

Phil clenched his hands together.

May didn’t know who she hated more: herself for making Phil so nervous and ashamed, or the Sky-people for making him that way.

“So,” Phil coughed a few times, “Simmons wants to see you in three days. It’s nothing concerning, just a _glucose tolerance test_.”

May quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s a test where you drink a sweet drink and then pee in a cup, to make sure your body is handling the pregnancy well.”

She nodded.

“I don’t need to be there. It’s nothing too exciting. Unless you want me to be there?”

May could _almost_ hear longing in that last question, but she must have just imagined it.

“Or not. It’s all good. Whatever,” Phil babbled.

May nodded, allowing a hint of a smile to escape, “I’d like to you be there… if you don’t mind?”

“Yeah, no, cool. That’s good.” Phil babbled onwards. The hem on the bottom of his shirt was completely frayed.

“Good,” May smiled fully, “I will see you there then.”

Phil fled The Guest House like an escaped prisoner. Or that, at least, was what May saw.


	43. Chapter 43

May needed Skye. Or Maria. But with Skye away and Maria _busy_ , May was alone.

She ate another muffin. And another. She tried to fill the aching emptiness inside her knowing full well that it wasn’t hunger.

She returned to trying to understand the Sky-people through their television. She knew it wasn’t likely to work, but at least it gave her something to do.

* * *

The day and time for the Glucose Tolerance test came. As they had previously arranged, May and Phil met outside the med-bay.

May arrived a good 10 minutes before the appointment and stalked around the entrance. She knew she wasn’t acting normal (neither her definition nor the Sky-people’s), and though she disliked drawing undue attention to herself, she couldn’t help it.

She heard Phil’s footsteps coming down the hall. Don’t ask her how she knew they were Phil’s; she just did. She instantly stopped her pacing and darted towards the entrance; she didn’t want him to see her like this.

Thankfully Doctor Simmons was oblivious to May’s earlier patrol, and welcomed her to the med-bay just as she usually did.

Mere moments later she welcomed Phil and led them both to their normal exam room.

Denied her prior outlet, May gnawed on the side of her cheek.

Headless, Phil asked, “How have you been doing?”

May shrugged and lied, “Fine.”

Phil lost some of his false cheer and hunched his shoulders at her brushoff.

In an ill-conceived attempt to make amends, she added, “I’ve been missing you.”

Phil brightened momentarily before sinking further into despondency (though very few would be able to tell).

“I’m sorry; I’ve been busy.”

May nodded. She understood –- kind of -– but wasn’t going to absolve him.

Doctor Simmons bustled back into the room –- just in the nick of time –- and handed May a bright orange drink.

May eyed the beverage with distrust. That color was _not_ natural.

Doctor Simmons smiled and blathered on about the importance of determining if everything _inside_ was in working order and how the other mothers may have complained about the taste, but this was really the best way to make sure that May and the baby were going to stay healthy.

May downed the artificially colored drink just to stop her babbling. It tasted like ultra-sweet rotten oranges. It took a great deal of May’s will power to restrain from gagging, but she managed it.

Phil gave her a sympathetic smile. May rolled her eyes at him. He just smirked.

She missed this.

Doctor Simmons took the empty cup and bustled out again, throwing “I’ll be back in an hour,” over her shoulder as she left.

Now May was _really_ sick to her stomach. _An entire hour alone with Phil? What would she do?!_

Phil’s face briefly sank. Then he donned his Coulson-mask and began babbling about Skye and her trip to another helicarrier.

It was a nice distraction. May lost herself in his stories.

Phil spun an elaborate yarn about Skye taking a wrong turn and ending up in the wrong cafeteria (one for high muckety-mucks, whoever they were), and how Trip’s sister had come to her rescue. At the end of that tale he began another detailing how Skye clearly had a huge crush on Trip’s cousin, but Phil was pretty sure the man was oblivious.

May couldn’t wait for Phil to finish this story and interrupted, asking the question that had been nagging her for a half-hour, “How do you know this?”

“Skye and I talked last night.”

“How?” If she could talk to Skye, perhaps she could explain some of this.

“On the phone?”

That wasn’t a real answer, “How!”

“I can set things up so you can talk to her too, if you’d like?”

May nodded vigorously.

Phil looked at his hands guiltily, “You’ve been missing her too.”

_Sure, that was as good of an explanation as any_ , May nodded in agreement.

Phil stared at his hands. May glanced at the clock. They still had fifteen minutes left (learning to understand the Sky-people concept of time wasn’t nearly as hard as learning to fly). _Which reminded her…_

“How goes the bureaucracy of letting me fly again?” May asked.

Phil looked even guiltier.

May gnawed on her lip. She wasn’t _trying_ to hurt Phil, and yet she still was.

After a long moment he replied, “We’re working on it. I promise.”

May nodded firmly, trying to take back the pain she had caused, “I know you are. I trust you.”

For some reason her assertion caused Phil even more pain. He practically winced.

She restrained herself from grabbing his hand in comfort; the memory of the last time she’d touched his hand burned brightly in her mind.

“Nick thinks we may have to call a full council meeting, but I hope he’s wrong. If he’s not, it’ll probably mean you’ll have to answer some questions in front of a lot of people. I really hope it doesn’t come to that.”

May nodded. There wasn’t anything else she could do.

Phil sat in silence studying his own hands. The hands May had said she liked.

May searched her mind for conversation topics that wouldn’t cause Phil pain, but came up blank.

They sat in silence until Doctor Simmons came in, took a blood sample, and shooed them out telling them she’d let them know the results tomorrow morning.

They stood awkwardly by the entrance.

“Well?” May said.

“Well, I can get you set up to call Skye from my office this afternoon, or I can ask about getting a secure line set up in your room, but that’ll take more time, Skye might be back by then,” Phil replied.

“Do you have to stay in the room?” She most certainly couldn’t ask Skye what she needed to if Phil was still in the room. That would be _unthinkable_!

Phil kicked at the deck, “Yeah, sorry. But we can turn on the distortion field.”

May quirked her eyebrow inquiringly.

“The distortion field? The D-field? The sparkly thing that blocks sound?” he tried, stopping at her nod of comprehension, “I won’t be able to overhear any girly things you two need to talk about.”

After refraining from rolling her eyes at the idea of ‘girly things’, May considered. _Would she be able to ask Skye why Phil was so ashamed of them and if she could do to anything lessen the taboo, with Phil in the very room? Well, it was worth a shot. Even if she couldn’t stand talking about anything important, it would be nice to talk to Skye._

May nodded.

Phil smiled, “I’ll contact Skye and let her know you’ll be calling at, let’s say 18:00?”

May nodded.

“Cool,” Phil responded before excusing himself.

May shook her head, for some reason setting up this call made Phil happy. She only wished she knew why.

She dismissed her questions -- she’d never really understand Phil -- and focused on figuring out how to ask Skye what she needed to know.


	44. Chapter 44

“Why can’t the Host fathers and Guest mothers have feelings?”

“What!?” Skye squealed like a dying rabbit. May double-checked that the D-field was on.

“Why is it wrong for Host fathers and Guest mothers to have feelings for one another?”

“Who told you that?”

“Phil did.”

“Wait, wait, wait! Go back; what happened?”

“Phil told me he cared about me. Maria told me we loved each other and I needed to figure out what I wanted. And then I told Phil I liked his eyes, and we were about to kiss but then he ran away and said it was wrong.”

“I’m gone for two measly weeks and the whole world explodes,” Skye muttered. May was pretty sure she wasn’t really supposed to hear that.

Skye sighed, “Okay. In the most general case, Host fathers and Guest mothers aren’t supposed to have feelings for each other. It’s to protect the mothers. But you and Phil? You guys aren’t normal; you’re special. And it’s not wrong for you to have feelings for Phil, or for Phil to have feeling for you. You guys are like _soulmates_ or something.”

May ignored the unfamiliar term, “But Phil feels it’s wrong. He’s running away. Why?”

Skye sighed again, “Phil’s an idiot.”

May quirked her eyebrow. _Skye wasn’t wrong._

“Host fathers aren’t supposed to have feelings to protect the Guest mothers. I’m sure Phil thinks he’s being noble or some Captain American thing by running away, but he’s not being noble, he’s being selfish.”

May hissed, needing to come to Phil’s defense.

“Did you just hiss at me? Really?” Skye laughed.

“You have the right to figure out what you want, Phil has the right to figure out what he wants, but if you both want the same thing he can’t then unilaterally decide it’s wrong and say he’s being noble. That’s not how being a grown-up works.”

May sighed, “But how do I fix this?”

Skye clicked her tongue against her teeth; she did that when she was thinking sometimes.

“You could tell him I think he’s being an idiot?” Skye suggested.

May snorted dismissively.

“You could grab him by the collar and give him a big ol’ kiss?”

May considered that for a moment before dismissing that too, “I don’t think so.”

“Or you could politely remind him you’re a grown-ass woman perfectly capable of deciding who you love without being taken advantage of.”

May inclined her head; _that might work_ , “Okay?”

“Yeah, remind him of your choice, tell him he has the right to want something -– or someone -– else, but he doesn’t have the right to be an idiot and call it noble.”

May nodded along. _This had potential_.

“And then, after you’ve let him know what’s what, you should grab him by the collar and give him a big ol’ smooch-a-rama!”

May snorted.

“You totally deserve one,” Skye attempted to justify herself.

May just shook her head.

The conversation lulled.

“So, how are you?” May asked out of politeness.

Skye laughed, “I’m totally bummed I’ve been gone during such a momentous week, but you know, I’m fine, things are good. I’m almost done restructuring the mainframe and defragging the backup, so I should be back soon. Try not to totally bulldoze Phil before I get back and can help you talk some sense into him.”

May smiled, she didn’t know what bulldoze really meant but she jokingly agreed, “I’ll try not to.”

“How are you doing despite all that stuff with Phil?”

“I’m fine. I’m getting bigger, and the baby is kicking more, and I miss flying, but I’m fine.”

“What happened to your flying lessons?”

“Phil caught me and Maria flying. It’s what started this whole thing. Now we have to go through official channels or something.”

“Ugh!”

“Yes.”

“Well, you need to let me know how your conversation with Phil goes.”

“Will do.”

“Good luck!”

“Thank you, see you soon.”

“You too.”

There was a click and then a faint buzz. Skye was gone.

May took a deep breath and readied herself to talk to Phil, again. May pushed the button Phil said would turn off the D-field. It worked as described.

Phil stood up from his position lounging in May’s chair reading something, and asked, “How is Skye?”

May quirked an evil grin, “She says you’re an idiot.”

“Oh?” He asked politely.

“Yes,” She feigned disinterest by walking toward the door.

“Would you mind elaborating?” Phil asked, still painfully polite.

“She said to remind you that I’m a grown-ass woman perfectly capable of deciding who I love, and you totally have the right to want someone else, but you don’t have the right to unilaterally decide it’s wrong and say you’re being noble.”

Phil looked as if she’d beat him over the head with a limp fish, or if she’d followed Skye’s second suggestion and _had_ kissed him.

“Oh.”

May did him the favor of giving him some time to process.

“But, but, but you weren’t certain,” he retorted after a few moments.

“I am now.”

Phil blushed and ducked his head.

May metaphorically kicked herself in the ass and stepped forward into his space.

Phil’s eyes captured hers. May licked her lips; his eyes darted towards them.

“I want this,” May affirmed.

Phil closed the distance between them and captured her lips with his own. His lips were soft, and smooth, and the pressure he exerted was foreign, but nice. She pressed back, leaning into the wash of pleasure he inspired.

His hand cupped her cheek. His smooth thumb painted deeper longings on her cheek.

A tsunami of longing rushed up from her womb, crashing over her.

May stepped back, gasping for breath while riding the wave of sensation.

“Wow,” she exclaimed, mostly to reassure Phil. He had dropped his hand, his lovely hand, from her face in concern.

“Yeah, wow,” Phil echoed.

His eyes asking hers for permission he slowly enfolded her into a hug.

She nestled her face into the nape of his neck and he stroked her hair tentatively, with wonder. He smelled musky, with a hint of coffee and cinnamon. She felt safe, loved.

Another wave of feeling, this time deeper, warmer, slower bloomed in her chest. She wanted this. She would fight every Sky-person on the helicarrier to keep this.

She sighed and Phil released her.

He studied her face questioningly.

May could not even begin to put what she felt into words, and instead she grinned broadly, trying to convey a small fraction of her feelings and certainty to her nervous dork.

Phil mirrored her smile, “Wow.”

“Wow indeed.”


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The afterglow fades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay guys. RL you know... 
> 
> But in good news, I've got a sweet new job that I'm super excited about and should (eventually) give me more free time to write. In bad news, I have to move 2,000 miles so my posting schedule is still going to be uneven for the next few months.

“Wow,” May said for the third time. She had no other words to express herself, in either language.

Phil ducked his head blushingly.

May took a step back, but dared to stroke the light pinkness of Phil’s cheek with the tips of her fingers. It was as soft as it looked, soft and hairless like a youth’s, yet no longer foreign to her.

Phil glanced up and gave her one of her favorite smiles, his half-embarrassed, yet half-confident smile.

It was May’s turn to break off eye contact. Her heart was just too full, she felt like she would break in half.

“So?” began Phil.

“Hmm?” May inquired.

“I guess you should go home now?”

“I suppose,” May replied. She didn’t really want to return to her apartment in The Guest House, but they needed to take things slowly. And telling Phil that she would much rather spend all of her time with him was most decidedly _not_ taking things slowly.

They stood together for a long moment, a mere arm’s length apart, neither wanting to be the one who retreated first. Abruptly, May ended the stalemate and stepped past Phil towards the door.

She had to pee, as per usual. Temporarily ignoring her insistent bladder, she stopped at the door.

“Good night Phil,” she said, feeling both giddy and foolish.

“Good night May,” he replied, looking as awestruck as she felt.

May used the restroom near Phil’s office and walked home cocooned in a cloud of safety and joy. She and Phil had finally kissed, and it was glorious.

Now, she understood why Weiyin couldn’t ever really describe _it_ ; it wasn’t like anything else. Now, she finally understood why people would do almost anything in the name of love.

Of course, she couldn’t get all the way to her rooms without event. Raina –- who had recently given birth to her slightly premature twins, wherever they were –- and her cronies were hanging about in the hallway outside her apartment.

And of course, Raina took exception to May’s clear delight.

“Look who has returned from one of her ‘special sessions’? I guess it really does pay to fuck a Father,” Raina faux-whispered to Hannah.

Such rage bubbled up within May. She wanted to break every tooth in that rumormongering mouth. _Why was she so spiteful? What was it to her? What did I ever do to her to inspire such nastiness?_

May restrained herself from physical violence and instead spat out, “I’m not fucking anyone; I’m just a decent human being. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

May felt a fleeting moment of vengeful pleasure at Raina’s slack-mouthed consternation, and then Raina’s cronies, including Kara Lynn, whom May had once tentatively thought of as a friend, began murmuring among themselves.

May just kept walking, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid catching a glimpse of Raina’s poisonous glare. _If Raina hadn’t been an enemy before, she certainly was one now. Oh well._

Once she had reached the relative safety of her apartment and had closed and locked the door, May released a sigh of suppressed anger, disappointment, and other unnamable emotions and collapsed into her couch.

* * *

May awoke a few hours later with a full bladder, an aching lower back, and a wrenched neck. She vowed never to fall asleep on her couch like that again, ate a few of her horded ginger biscuits, and relocated to her bed.

Of course, once she was finally as comfortable as she could get with her various pillows strategically arranged to provide the maximum amount of support, she couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind flashed back to that amazing kiss, how Phil’s lips felt on her, what he smelled like; all of those precious pieces of memory.

She longed to kiss Phil again and yet she was terrified of becoming too attached. Caring for someone gave them the tools to hurt you. And she would have to return home in a few years.

May felt like she was at the edge of a precipice, unsure if she was going to fall to her death on the spires below or soar to new heights. Oh, how she wanted to fly, but she was much safer staying where she was. What should she do? What _could_ she do?

She breathed in and out and yet her thoughts still raced back and forth, pros and cons, the good and the bad, dreams and nightmares.

Her daughter picked up her anxiety and kicked and elbowed her vigorously. May stroked her stomach, trying to soothe her acrobatic daughter, but she was largely unsuccessful. After a particularly painful jab to the kidneys, May waddled out of bed and began pacing around the room focusing on her breathing.

She found herself imagining being _with_ Phil. She found herself imagining spending a whole afternoon cuddled into the lee of Phil’s arm talking about nothing, or just reading. She found herself imagining taking him flying, sharing her special place with him, like he had shared his with her.

She found herself imagining sharing a bed, sharing an apartment, sharing her life with him. She found herself imagining Phil cooking for her and their daughter, making silly faces and funny sounds to keep their little one amused.

Kaia/Amelia/Celine finally stopped kicking and May returned to bed. She wrapped her arms around her belly and finally fell asleep imagining a story-book life with Phil and their daughter.


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for coerced, non-medical drug use

May woke to incessant pounding on her front door. She hadn’t slept very well and the elaborate process of levering herself out of bed and waddling through the apartment when mere months ago she could have sprung out of bed and to the door in a quarter of the time left her more than a little grumpy.

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she opened the door, but it certainly wasn’t Victoria Hand with Skye’s friend Trip and another guard-person she didn’t recognize.

“Come with us Ms. May,” Hand commanded.

May gestured at her rumpled nightgown and generally rumpled appearance in protest.

“Now, please,” was Hand’s only response.

Taking a moment to armor herself in ‘I don’t give a fuck’ May stepped out into the hall and followed Hand through the Helicarrier. The two guards followed at their heels like dogs.

May had thought she’d learned the layout of much of the Helicarrier, but apparently there were still unexplored swaths.

As they boarded an elevator May asked, “What’s going on?”

After a long, uncomfortable moment with Hand examining May like a small animal she was about to skin, Hand replied, “We’re taking you to your inquest.”

“But, but Phil said that we had a week?”

“I know,” Hand said with an almost smirk, “We kept him deliberately in the dark. And we forbade Maria from seeing you as well. This inquest is important and we couldn’t have them coaching you.”

May nodded, a tumult of emotions roiling through her. On one hand she was relieved to hear that the reason she hadn’t seen Maria was something external, it wasn’t because she was annoyed at May’s feelings for Phil, or her slowness in realizing them. She’d been hoping that Maria was just really busy, but that fear had lingered in the background.

On the other hand May was anxious about this mysterious inquest and wished she knew what was really going to happen. On a third hand she was annoyed at Hand for bringing guards and not even letting her get dressed –- or pee. Now that she thought about it, her bladder made its demands paramount.

“That secret inquest stuff is all well and good, but I have to pee. Now.”

Hand blinked at the _non sequitur_ , but apparently during her time as the Assistant Director of the Guest House she had spent plenty of time around pregnant women and knew the import of that statement and nodded.

Once the elevator _dinged_ its arrival at its destination –- a very high level by the numbers -– Hand curtly directed the guards in a detour, quickly inspected the bathroom, (for _what_ May was unsure) and then allowed May to take care of her business.

May left the small bathroom feeling significantly better. Not only did she empty her bladder, but she also took the opportunity to wash the sleep from her eyes, finger comb her hair, and smooth out her nightgown. Having neat hair or a clean face hadn’t been important to her _before_ , but as cleanliness was so important to the Sky-people, May had found herself caring more about it as well.

Hand sniffed at May’s tidied appearance, whether it was approvingly or disapprovingly was unclear, she said nothing, merely gestured with her chin for them to continue.

Feeling like she didn’t need to feign self-confidence quite as much, May started thinking about what she should say to convince the council to let her fly. Clearly bringing up her burgeoning feelings for Phil would just overly complicate matters, what she needed to do was convince them that she was a normal Host Mother who also wanted to fly.

Yes, that was the best course of action.

They turned the corner and entered a largish grey room. In the center of the room was an intimidatingly large chair with a headpiece. The whole chair would nearly engulf May’s frame. The chair was directly facing a large metal table with and many buttons. A small fat man stood behind the table. Across the room was a row of folding chairs half-filled with an array of spectators. Skye waved, looking conflicted, as if she wanted to run across the room and hug May, but knew she couldn’t. Maria was there too, but she looked withdrawn and almost ashamed. May vaguely recognized a few of the other on-lookers from the medical bay or hallways, but most were complete strangers.

Phil was nowhere to be seen. May wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. But in her heart-of-hearts she wanted him here, to support her.

Hand gestured at the huge chair and straight-backed, May followed the implicit order.

As she sat, May noticed that Doctor Simmons was hiding in the lee of the chair. May smiled at her, Doctor Simmons gave her a pained grimace in return. May was glad she wasn’t the only one having a bad time.

Despite how huge the chair was, it _was_ rather comfortable, and a small fraction of the tension in May’s neck eased.

She watched the audience mill about for a few minutes before the dark skinned one-eyed man May had seen a few times told them to “sit down and shut the fuck up” (his words exactly). May hid a smirk at how quickly everyone followed his instructions. This was a man born to command.

He nodded at Doctor Simmons who hesitantly approached May. She had a syringe in her hands.

May glared at her in question.

“This is QNB-T15, a truth serum. It won’t hurt the baby and it’s a required part of the inquest. You can refuse it… but then you’ll never get to fly again,” Doctor Simmons answered.

May glared but extended her arm in reply.

Quickly, jerkily, Doctor Simmons wiped down the inside of May’s arm with a cold wipe, uncapped the syringe needle, and injected the light blue liquid into May.

Within three breaths May began to float. First her feet and fingers tingled, then her arms and legs faded away. Everything was calm, peaceful.

Within five breaths the thrumming of her heart and the rise and fall of her chest felt miles away. Her anxiety melted from her and she allowed her head to lull. Even lowering her eyelids seemed like too much work.

“Mai Qiaolian?” a rumbly voice asked, actually pronouncing her name mostly correct.

“Hmm?” Answering the rumbly voice seemed like the only right thing to do, even though it was work.

“How old are you?”

The truth tumbled from her lips like russet leaves from a tree in the fall, “Twenty-five winters.”

“What is your favorite color?”

“Blue, like Phil’s eyes.” Far away, a smile bloomed unbidden upon her face.

Vaguely May could hear some murmuring in the background, but it didn’t concern her.

“What would you like to name your daughter?”

Answering the voice was the most important thing in the world. “Kaia, or Amelia after Amelia Earhart, or Celine.”

“Why are you here?” The rumbly voice asked from miles away.

“Because my ancestors wanted me to come here.”

More murmuring, but it was irrelevant. Her world had narrowed to the voice, his questions, and answering them.

“Why do you want to fly?”

“To be free. To soar. To live.”

“What are your feelings towards Skye Johnson?”

“She’s my best friend.”

“What are your feelings towards Maria Hill?”

“She’s my sister.”

“What are your feelings towards Phillip Coulson?”

“I think I love him.”

“Yes?”

“And that scares me. I think it scares him too.”

The murmuring continued, but the voice asked no more questions so May just let the murmurs roll over her and floated. Nothing bothered her and everything was simple.

Doctor Simmons’ face appeared in front of her and then she slept.


	47. Chapter 47

May woke slowly, unevenly. Her left arm tingled, so she rolled onto her back. Within minutes her back twinged and her bladder ached so she rolled out of bed and waddled to the bathroom. She returned and curled up in bed, dozing some more. She dozed through the shrieks of children playing out in the main hall. She dozed through a quiet lull of mealtime.

Her bladder pestered her once more, and as she was washing her hands, memories of the inquest –- that morning or maybe even yesterday -– hit her like a bucket of ice water to the face.

SHIT.

Oh shit.

Had she really told everyone assembled that she loved Phil?

She sank to the cold tile floor of the bathroom, her knees unable to support her anymore.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

May could feel her heart racing, thundering, in her chest and took a deep breath.

In.  _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Hold. _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Out. _One, two, three, four, five, six._

Okay. So. Her original plan for the inquest of hiding her feelings for Phil, and pretending to be a normal Host Mother was toast. That didn’t necessarily mean that they wouldn’t let her fly again. Nor did it necessarily mean that they separate her from Phil. Did it?

In.  _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Hold. _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Out. _One, two, three, four, five, six._

The Sky-people were very rules-bound folk, but also fair, and pretty open-minded. Victoria Hand and Isabella Hartley were well respected without regard to their Southern love. Perhaps she and Phil could be like that? Maybe? Skye had been so certain that there weren’t any real rules against Host Fathers and Guest Mothers. Wasn’t she?

In.  _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Hold. _One, two, three, four, five, six._ Out. _One, two, three, four, five, six._

May crawled over to the tub and used it to lever herself up. Ancestors, she was looking forward to having her own nimble body back. It wasn’t just the bump upfront, or the changing center of gravity, but all of her joints from her hips, knees, and ankles to her elbows were weaker.

Only 14 more weeks, give or take, Doctor Simmons said. Only 14 more weeks.

Once she was upright, May washed her face, slapped herself lightly on the cheeks to get the blood flowing, and set about getting ready for the day -– or re-ready, since her morning had already been quite eventful.

As she donned a pair of pale blue stretchy-top trousers, she was shocked to realize that it had only been two days since she’d talked to Skye, and only two days since she and Phil had kissed. Gracious Ancestors! Everyone on the Helicarrier would know she loved Phil before _he_ knew it!

Now May was torn. Should she hunt down Maria and demand to know the results of the inquest as she had originally planned, or should she find Phil and try to talk to him before someone else told him?

May sighed. She needed to know. And besides, someone might have already told Phil during her ‘nap’; he could wait.

She grabbed a meal replacement bar -– those things were far too convenient –- and bustled out the door. She ignored the spiteful whispering of the other mothers and continued on her way. The last thing she needed was _their_ approval.

Due to the lateness of the hour May made her way directly to Maria’s room, guessing that she would be done for the day.

May knocked on Maria’s door, but received no answer. After standing outside her door for a good two or three minutes, May built up the courage to press her thumb to the pass-pad. The door opened. May was pleased Maria hadn’t taken away her access after her _disastrous_ prank.

May surveyed the sparse room. It was much the same as it had been, except Maria’s bed was unmade and there was a dirty bowl and mug in the kitchen area. Clearly May wasn’t the only one who had been rushed this morning.

There were also some flimsy, filmy documents on the bedside table, which May ignored. Just because she could read them now, didn’t mean she should.

May waited. She paced the small room until she had to pee. When she was done in Maria’s tiny bathroom, her ankles gave her a threatening ache. She heeded their warning and sat on the bed. She tried to think of what she wanted to ask Maria, what she wanted to tell Phil, but her thoughts raced after each other in a frenetic manner, and she was unable to pin a single one down.

Her eyes settled on the dirty dishes. _Ah, now that was something she could do._

May washed Maria’s breakfast dishes in the bathroom sink and then returned to her perch on the bed.

She was being foolish and probably a bit creepy, waiting in Maria’s bedroom for news about the inquest. Maria was probably having fun with friends or something. Maybe the inquest hadn’t resolved anything. She should probably return to her rooms. Or try to find Phil, or something.

May was about to waddle out of bed when Maria’s door opened with a _beep-click_.

May stood up in a rush.

“Hi,” she forced out, sheepishly.

Maria blinked once, in surprise, “Hi.”

“I needed to know what happened at the inquest,” May spat out.

Maria nodded in understanding and sat down leadenly on the bed to pull off her boots. Her movements lacked her customary dragon-like grace. She tossed her boots towards the door. They hit it with a _thump-thump_.

“I need a drink.”

It was May’s turn to nod.

Maria walked to her kitchen, pulled a bottle of brown liquid out of the high cabinet, and took a swig. Maria turned and leaned against her hot-box.

The anticipation was suffocating May.

“The inquest is still debating what to do about you. But the good news is they don’t think you’re a flight risk.”

“Flight risk?” May asked. _Did that mean what she thought it meant?_

“They don’t think you’ll run away and take ‘their’ child with you, but that’s pretty much the only thing they’ve decided. They _just_ adjourned for the day.”

“Oh.” May sank to the bed.

Maria took another swig and joined her, collapsing onto the bed, holding the bottle carefully to prevent spilling its precious –- and smelly –- contents.

“They spent most of the time talking about legal precedence and shit like that, but the court of public opinion is on your side.”

May looked at her curiously.

“Somehow _cough_ Skye _cough_ the tale of your and Phil’s budding romance was released onto the net, and IT reacted too slowly to restrict its spread. Any talk of transferring your contract to another Host was promptly squashed.”

A frisson of fear crept up May’s spine and was only partly soothed.

Maria took yet another swig before continuing, “But flight lessons are a ‘privilege, not a right’ and the council is talking itself into knots about who deserves said privilege. Hence the legal mumbo-jumbo about citizenship, birthright citizenship, surrogacy, and a whole bunch of other things that haven’t existed since Gods walked the earth and Ragnarök.”

Maria sighed. May sighed with her. _So much for actually finding out the results of the inquest. So much for her hope of being able to fly again._


	48. Chapter 48

Maria’s sigh turned into a yawn and May realized how selfish she was being. Maria had had a very long day, and had just wanted to go to sleep, and here she was interrogating her.

She sat up in a rush –- paused for the little dots in her eyes to stop dancing –- and then stood.

Maria looked at her slightly puzzled.

“I should let you get some rest,” May answered.

Maria nodded. Then she started, “You should expect Phil tomorrow. He’s been banned from the rest of the inquest, and is likely to be quite antsy.”

May nodded. Maria yawned again.

“Night,” May said with forced cheer.

“Night.”

May walked back to her rooms in a cloud -– this time a dark and stormy one, full of doubts, fears, and misgivings.

 _The inquest had considered transferring her contract to a different Host father! How was that even possible? Phil was **hers** , and she was Phil’s! _Just the thought of it made her furious!

She fixed herself a quick hot meal –- placing a pre-packaged meal box (which Phil heartily disapproved of) with a picture of rice, meat, and veggies in the hotbox –- and ate it without tasting it.

May supposed the inquest had a right to consider if she would run away. Phil had thought about it too. _How were they to know she’d stopped examining and evaluating escape possibilities weeks, no, months, ago?_

_But how could they even consider transferring her contract? How was that even right? What was their logic?_

Shit, Maria said Phil was banned from the rest of the inquest. _What did he know? What had he been told? Shit, shit, shit._

Before May could work herself up to too high of a frenzy, she realized that she had consumed all of the meal, untasted. She tossed the remains and decided to try to see if a bath would calm her enough to get to sleep.

It was a good idea, but unsuccessful. She could not relax –- even with the lavender scented bath salts Skye had given her a few months before. _What did Phil think about what she’d told the inquest? What would the inquest decide? Would Phil be annoyed or hurt or surprised? Would she ever get to fly again?_

Round and round her mind spun, stuck in the same worn worried path.

Even her tried and true breathing exercises were futile.

It took many long and restless hours of tossing and turning until she finally fell into a semi-restful sleep.

* * *

May woke to furtive knocking on her front door. As she waddled to answer it she swore to herself that she would kick whomever dared to drag her off to another round of questions off of the Helicarrier and down to the earth below, guards or no.

Instead of a meddling bureaucrat with a bevy of guards, she opened the door to a sheepish Phil.

May’s rage leaked from her, leaving her limp and tired.

“Morning?” Phil ventured.

“Morning,” May replied and stepped back from the door to allow him entry.

“I’d ask how you are doing, but I think I already know the answer,” Phil quipped.

May only glared, but she relented slightly when he handed her an apple-and-something white scone.

She took a bite from the peace offering and it turned out to be pear with some kind of cheese. It was pretty good.

After May finished the scone, she actually felt human –- not ready to deal with Phil and the inquest and all that stuff, but generally human. But let it never be said that Qiaolian May was a coward.

“What have you heard about yesterday, about the inquest?” she asked.

Phil swallowed nervously; he lied, “Nothing?”

May raised one eyebrow, Phil wilted.

“Hand told me everything, Maria told me more, and Skye filled in some details too.”

“Oh,” May exhaled, sagging, “Everything?”

Phil nodded, asking with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “Is it true?”

May straightened her back. She had known this was a possibility.

“Is your favorite color really blue?”

May didn’t know whether she should be annoyed by his joking, or relieved. She settled on rolling her eyes in mock annoyance.

Phil grinned and set a bag in the kitchen area before joining May on her couch.

“It’s okay, May. I know things are still really new between us. Let’s just take things at our own speed, without regard to Hand, or the inquest, or anybody else. Okay?”

Phil’s earnest entreaty melted May’s heart. Phil was such a dear. She nodded.

Phil grinned like the bare-cheeked youth she sometimes mistook him for, and gestured at the bag of supplies in the kitchen.

“I was thinking maybe we could recommence our cooking lessons? It’ll keep both our minds off of the busybodies trying to decide our future?” he asked hopefully.

May smiled softly.

Phil took this as acquiescence, “Great! I brought supplies for a quiche!”

May inclined her head slightly.

“Great,” Phil repeated, this time with less enthusiasm.

May waited, still.

Surprisingly, Phil was not the one to crack.

“You still have questions burning at you, don’t you?” She asked.

“How?”

May quirked her eyebrow, asking for elaboration.

“Why?”

“That is another question...” May prodded.

“How can you love me? After everything that we’ve done to you? Why does it scare you? Why does it terrify me?” Phil exploded, words and fears tripping over one another in a rush to escape.

May paused blinkingly, and studied Phil’s sincere face. She stopped holding herself back and wrapped her arms around him.

For a brief moment Phil was rigid, and then he melted into her embrace.

 _This was why_. Phil made her feel safe, grounded even 10,000 feet in the sky. May inhaled the musky, oniony smell of Phil overlaid with coffee, flour, pear, and cheese.

May seized the moment, binding it in memory for later, for when she returned to the ground to her mother and her peoples, forever separated from Phil, her children, and the sky. _That is what frightened her_ ; that he was burrowing so deeply into her heart she’d never be able to leave him.

Phil stepped back, a riot of emotions flickering over his face –- joy, contentment, concern, fear, resolve, inquiry.

A mischievous glint settled into his eyes and May readied herself for one of his inane (if comforting) quips.

“You didn’t exactly answer my questions,” he joked.

May shrugged one shoulder.

“Quiche time?” he asked, clearly not wanting to push too hard.

“Quiche time,” she replied, gratefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone be interested in a blog about the recipes I use as inspiration for Phil's cooking? It would go on my brand-new Tumblr (valanthaliadon).


	49. Chapter 49

As Phil began talking May through the process of making the egg-rich dish May found herself standing closer than strictly necessary, instigating tiny touches trying to recapture that feeling of harmony.

May stood so close their shoulders practically touched and she could feel the heat radiating off of him as he showed her the proper way to cook the thin slices of pig he called bacon. Which smelled _amazing_ , by the way.

Phil gave her the task of finely chopping a bit of onion as he undertook the ‘hazardous’ task of grating the cheese. May remember back to their first cooking lesson and distraction his large, soft hands had served. She chuckled aloud.

“Hmm?” Phil inquired.

“I was just thinking back to our first cooking lesson, and the grater.”

“Oh?” Clearly he didn’t see the humor in the recollection.

“You were quite the distraction,” she replied with a wry semi-grin.

“Oh!” Phil intoned with blushing self-confidence.

May felt an overwhelming need to kiss his adorable red cheek, and didn’t hold herself back this time. He turned an even brighter shade of red.

Phil cleared his throat a few times and then began lecturing on possible crust options. May found his pink ears and hunched shoulders to be far more interesting, but she did help him tear up the day-old bread into tiny cherry-sized pieces without teasing him further.

May watched as his hands smeared butter around the small glass bowl he’d brought and then mixed the bread pieces with a bit of melted butter. He insisted she smash the bread mixture into the baking dish. It was a little slimy, but nowhere near as slimy as fresh entrails.

May placed the lined dish into the hot box and cooked it for two minutes, as per Phil’s instructions.

As the quiche crust cooked, Phil tore apart the now-cooled bacon strips into small pieces while having May tear apart a few leaves of spinach.

When the hot box beeped, Phil and May dumped the bacon, onion, spinach, and cheese into the dish. Their hands brushed against one another in the process, and May’s center throbbed with longing. Phil reddened –- yet again -– but hurriedly began explaining the best method for cracking eggs, and the necessity of adding a bit of milk to the eggs before beating the two eggs until the mixture was mostly uniform. He added a bit of salt and pepper, mixed a bit more, and then poured the eggs on top of the veggies and cheese and other tasty stuff.

Phil heated the quiche for one minute before carefully taking the dish out and having May stir it with a fork. They cooked it for another minute. May snuck into the lee of Phil’s surprisingly strong shoulders. She basked in his presence. He glanced down at her when the hot box beeped with a soft smile on his face, as if he could read her mind, and took pride or comfort in her feelings for him. As she grabbed the hot dish, she hip-bumped him, and he laughed joyously.

She stirred the almost-solid mixture once more, and Phil sprinkled the last handful of cheese on top. They cooked the quiche for one more minute before Phil proclaimed it done.

With a self-satisfied smirk, May cut the quiche in half and deftly plated it with a bit of leftover spinach as garnish – she had seen a few old-time cooking shows and that’s what they did when they wanted to impress people.

Phil was suitability impressed, bestowing a ginormous grin on her for her flare.

May felt an inexplicable up-swell of pride, which only strengthened when she took her first bite of quiche. It was good. And Phil agreed.

They sat in comfortable silence as they ate the fruits of their labor. Only when only a crumb or two of crust was left did Phil broach the topic of the inquest again.

“Do you really consider Maria to be your sister?”

May nodded.

Phil patiently waited for more, sipping some hot cocoa.

May suppressed a sigh, “Yes. She is strong, and wise. She sees me truly, and cares for me genuinely. And she doesn’t talk so much.”

Phil guffawed in surprise.

“I’m glad,” he replied sincerely, “I’m so glad. I’d hoped you two would hit it off, but I’m really glad it worked.”

They sat in silence for a while before May ventured, “Part of what frightens me about my feelings for you, is that I’m afraid I won’t want to leave.”

May paused, “I’m needed at home. My mother needs me, and I don’t want to miss her or my uncle’s –- who was like a father to me -– final years…”

Phil’s earnest face egged her on.

“But I’m growing to love it here. I think I can learn to live without flying. Without the sky. Without chocolate. Without storybooks. But the rest? You? Skye? Maria? Our daughter? That I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry May.”

Phil’s simple statement broke her. She cracked, crumbled, and collapsed into tears.

She hadn’t cried in years, no _decades_ , and yet now that valve burst and all the strain, stress, and pressure of the past year were violently expelled in huge, gasping ugly sobs.

Phil cautiously patted her back murmuring ‘let it out’, and when she didn’t protest that, he enfolded her into a hug as she expelled her demons.

Some undeterminable time later May was wrung dry and just leaned against Phil’s tear-and-snot dampened shirt.

She was red-eyed, snotty, exhausted, and yet freer, lighter, than she’d been. She dozed off.

May woke up lying on the couch to the sounds of Phil cleaning up in the kitchen.

The couch rustled as she sat up.

Phil turned and gazed at her, some unreadable expression on his face.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

May shrugged, “Better, I guess?” She was kind of stuffy, and still red-eyed, but she was pretty sure Phil was asking psychologically, not physically, and discounting the mortifying embarrassment, she did feel better.

Phil nodded somberly, as if May came bearing words from the Ancestors themselves.

“Would you like to go to the gardens this afternoon?” he asked.

May shrugged. She didn’t really want to be reminded of the pale shadow of the world she’d left behind.

“Or I brought a new storybook?”

May nodded hesitantly.

Phil handed her a well-loved book with a picture of a monster sitting in a forest, and then settled on the other end of the couch with his electronic book tablet-thingy.

May read about a naughty little boy sent to bed without dinner who ended up becoming the wolf-king of the monsters before getting homesick.

Without conscious thought they worked their way to the middle of the couch, Phil’s arm wrapped over May’s shoulder as she reached the end of the book where Max just wanted to be home where someone loved him best of all, and ended up back home, with his dinner waiting for him.

May sniffed back a few tears -– damn pregnancy hormones –- and set the book down.

Phil looked at her curiously and she just shrugged and scooted out from underneath his arm.

He let her go without protest, and once May was far enough she stood up and went to the bathroom. She had to pee -– she was pregnant and _always_ had to pee –- but more than that, she needed some time. The children’s storybook captured the very essence of her struggle, did she want to return home, or stay here with someone who loved her best of all?


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which May and Skye hang.

By the time May exited her bathroom, Phil had gathered up his supplies and sat perched on the edge of the couch with the bag on his lap –- clearly eager to flee. _To flee her, or to flee her emotional outbursts?_ May wasn’t sure which.

“Um, so, I probably should get going…” Phil mumbled.

May straightened her back –- and her resolve, “Okay.”

Phil nodded rapidly, like one of those wobbly-headed dolls May had seen in the corner of Doctor Simmons’ office.

Phil walked to the door before pausing, clearing his throat a few times before starting, “Do you want to go to the gardens tomorrow?”

May shrugged. _She was full of turmoil and didn’t know **what** she wanted, now, or tomorrow, or in the more distant future. _

Phil nodded as if he understood –- which he didn’t –- if May herself couldn’t understand there was no way Phil could, “I’ll come by and see what you feel up to tomorrow, if that’s okay with you?”

May shrugged again.

Phil nodded and then fled.

May collapsed onto the couch with a sigh. _Why did things have to be so complicated!_

May permitted herself to sprawl melodramatically for maybe a quarter of a sky-people hour before chiding herself upright to get changed -– hanging out in her sleep clothes all day with Phil was fine, but she wasn’t going to walk through the Helicarrier, or even out into The Guest House hallway without getting properly dressed.

Once properly attired, May walked out into the hall and threaded her way through the spiteful mothers and the oblivious children. She refused let their vindictiveness pull her down.

May wound her way through the fairly familiar turnings until she found herself outside Skye’s apartment.

She knocked and waited.

She heard some scuffling noises and muffled voices –- plural –- and waited.

A few moments after the scuffling ceased, Skye cracked open the door. Her hair was in quite a state and her top was buttoned haphazardly.

“Sorry,” May began, “I’m clearly interrupting you.”

Before Skye could stammer out a lie for politeness’s sake, May turned on her heel. She felt her face heat. _Of course her friends had lives of their own. It was silly of her to expect anything different._

“Wait, wait, wait!” Skye called -– and chased -– after her.

May only stopped when Skye’s hand wrapped firmly around her upper arm.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“What’s up?” Skye panted.

May shrugged, it was hard to say.

“Okay…?” Skye prompted.

“I…. Phil… home?” May sputtered.

Skye waited patiently as May tried to gather her thoughts.

“I just needed to get _out_.”

Skye nodded kindly, as if that statement meant something, as if that utterance was actually worth waiting for, “Okay.”

“You wanna hang? I’ve got to warn you that I’ve been banned from the inquest too, I don’t know what’s happening either.”

May nodded firmly, adding, “I do **not** want to hear about that Ancestors’ cursed thing!”

“Okay,” Skye replied with a grin, “Besides we’ve been gone long enough for Trip to escape.”

“Trip?” May asked surprised as they turned back to Skye’s room. “I thought you had feelings for Trip’s cousin?”

Skye smirked proudly, “Nope, Kristopher is a great guy, but…” Skye shrugged.

May nodded.

When they made it back to Skye’s room, Skye was right, Trip had disappeared.

Skye offered to make some hot cocoa, which May accepted without question, and they settled down on Skye’s shabby couch.

May sipped the rich, warm drink as Skye chattered about winning over Trip, his numerous virtues, and her plans for their next date.

May tried to lose herself in the wash of words, and hopes and longings that were not her own. And she was largely successful, in fact, the good-natured gibber-jabber soothed her into smiling -– a true smile that eased some of the pain in her heart.

Skye’s prattle ebbed. She set down her now-empty mug, and turned interrogatively to May.

With a suppressed sigh, May set her mug down as well -– hers had been long-empty, but she liked the weight of it in her hands, the comfort of it -– and fortified herself for Skye’s questions.

“What’s up May?”

With a deep breath, she began, “Phil came over today. He brought scones, and we made quiche, and we talked.”

Skye nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“Phil _really_ knows I love him, and I hugged him, and I cried all over him for the first time in years and years. And I’m afraid that I won’t want to go home, in the end, but I _have_ to.”

Skye waited for a bit, probably to see if May had anything more to say, before wrapping her arms around May.

Skye’s hug was different than Phil’s, but it still felt nice. Skye was softer, smaller, and smelled like jasmine and coffee.

After several heartbeats, Skye pulled away from the hug to meet May’s eyes with her own.

“This sucks man! I get that we need to do this to survive –- well, not really, I’m not sure if even Simmons really gets why we have to it, and she’s like the _smartest_ person ever -– but it totally sucks for you to be torn from your family and all. And if we didn’t do this, I’d never have met you, which also would have sucked. But it sucks the most for you, totally torn between your family and the life you’ve always known, and your soul mate, Phil, and your future family!”

As Skye engulfed her in another hug, May felt the prickling of tears, and blinked them back stoically. _What was it about her and tears today, Ancestors!_

“You know that I’m here for you, no matter what, right?”

May nodded against Skye’s shoulder.

“Good. ‘Cause I am. I totally stopped while having sex with Trip for you, and I don’t regret it one bit. Well, maybe a tiny bit, but you are _way_ more important,” Skye lightly joked, checking on May’s response before continuing.

“So what do you want to do tonight? If you weren’t preggers, I could totally talk our way into the Enlisted Club -– they have a huge aft window, which is pretty sweet –- and we could dance, let loose, and forget about your shit for a while. But that wouldn’t be very good for little Kaia. But we could stay in, eat ice cream -– have you had ice cream before? –- and watch some classic chick flicks?”

May nodded, curious about yet another Sky-people delicacy, which tended to be generally on the sweet side but good, so that’s what they did.

Skye called in a favor and got some ice cream delivered, and it was _amazing!_ Delicious like Phil’s mousse or hot cocoa, but ice cold. They watched a sad movie about a group of friends sticking together through good times and bad, and then a much sillier movie about a girl waking up in a woman’s body and realizing that being a grown-up is hard.

All in all, it was a very nice, thoroughly distracting evening, and May left Skye’s apartment feeling far more hopeful about the future than she’d felt when she arrived.


	51. Chapter 51

The next few days were not nearly as eventful. Phil, Skye, and Maria tag-teamed keeping May occupied with innocuous, yet engaging activities.

Skye taught her a _computer game_ , which was sort of similar to Go, but with colorful pieces of different shapes which controlled different amounts of the board. The basic strategy was simple, but it was fun to test wits with Skye, and the coruscating colors and strange beeps of the game board added another layer of intrigue.

Phil took her on a tour of the _massive_ kitchens used to fix the many hundreds of meals that kept the Sky-people fed. It was impressive to see how fast the professional chefs cut the produce they brought them –- a skill May really wanted to learn. It was also interesting to watch them work together to prepare the Mother’s meals.

May even restrained herself from spitting into them while the chefs attention was elsewhere. If she knew for certain which one was Raina’s, she probably wouldn’t have been able to stop herself. She wasn’t _that_ good of a person.

Maria continued pressing May for meditation practice, and May obliged even though they both knew that Maria was one of those people who just couldn’t _do_ meditation, and their practices were painful for both of them. Maria just couldn’t follow May’s vocal guides –- and she couldn’t stay perfectly still like May. And yet they persevered –- agonizingly.

May tried to embrace ‘the now’ and allow herself to be distracted from her future, and the meddling security council-folk. _Live in the now_ was her refrain. _No regrets, no demands._

Doctor Simmons came by, apologizing profusely for not informing May immediately when her blood test results came back, but things had been crazy-busy.

May laughed, a pained, hollow sort of laugh. _Things had been crazy-busy. And just plain crazy._

Doctor Simmons gave her a tight smile and continued with an explanation that everything was perfectly fine, better than normal.

On her way out the door Doctor Simmons threw out a bizarre piece of advice, “Oh, and start talking to your baby. Her ears are fully functional now.”

May was astonished by the limits of sky-people knowledge –- or the lack thereof -– and swore on her ancestors, and then apologized to her daughter with a wry snort.

Thusly, May passed her 24th week since being impregnated and entered the third trimester.

Skye threw her third trimester party –- brownies and another silly movie –- and May just went along with it. According to Skye, reaching the third trimester was a big deal, since now her baby had almost a 90% chance of surviving on her own. Learning this just freaked May out more, Kaia wasn’t near big enough to be born! May wrapped her arms protectively around her bump.

Skye patted her shoulder comfortingly, scattering brownie crumbs all over May in the process. May didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry, nor really at what, and refrained from cursing her hormones again. She didn’t want Kaia to form the wrong impression of her feelings. She never wanted her daughter to feel unwelcome. Never.

* * *

The day after the tiny ‘party’, the council finally drew the inquest to a close.

Hand came by May’s room at a reasonable time –- and without armed guards -– and they walked together to hear the council’s verdict.

May’s hands sweated, stomach churned, and lower back ached, and she could only blame one of those on her pregnancy. She was terrified by what the council might decide. Denying her the chance to fly was one thing, taking Phil away –- or Ancestors’ forbid -– taking Kaia away, was a whole other realm of terror.

Hand led May to a different room. It was smaller than the interrogation room, and there was no central big chair, just a central huge table with maybe 24 normal-sized chairs around it. The fact that it looked like the legal-room of the contract five long months ago soothed May slightly, very slightly.

She glared at Fury and the other members of the council.

She was here, but she wasn’t going to smile sweetly at these intrusive, officious bureaucrats.

“Order, order! I call this mother-fucking circus to order!” Fury shouted and pounded on the table. May was concerned about a _literal_ interpretation of the one-eyed man’s words, but she caught sight of Maria, and she didn’t see overly concerned by his outburst.

The crowd grumbled a bit in hushed tones, but the majority of the folks who were milling around found their seats leaving only May, Hand, Phil, Maria, and Fury still standing.

Maria and Phil each made eye contact with May, sending what encouragement they could from across the room, before they too found their seats.

Hand showed May to her seat and sat down on her right side.

“Finally,” Fury grumped.

May’s stomach curdled. She wasn’t sure how much of this she could take. Luckily, Fury wasn’t much of one to drag things out either.

“Mai Qiaolian?” He asked. He did a pretty good job at not mangling her name.

May nodded.

“The World Security Council, also known as the Allied Vessel Command Council has come to a decision about your… unique… situation. This has already taken up way too much damn time so there will be no appeal. Do you understand?”

May glanced at Maria; she nodded slightly, so May nodded as well. May didn’t understand many of Fury’s words and it had been a long time since that’d been the case -– excepting Doctor Simmons and May was pretty sure Phil and Skye didn’t understand her half the time either –- but Maria thought it made sense, that was good enough for May.

“Good." Fury nodded at an old white-haired man.

The old council member began, "You will be permitted to continue practicing on the flight simulators until Doctor Simmons says it’s a risk to you or your child…”

May nodded. She was a bit disappointed, but the flight simulators were better than nothing.

“…Or a neutral party confirms you really are as good as Hill says you are. Then you can follow the standard _civilian_ flight training schedule with Hill as your designated flight instructor.”

May shared a joyful look with Maria.

“Receiving your civilian pilot's license will also be at the determination of a neutral party. However, there are several stipulations…”

_Of course._

“… One: At no time will you be trained to operate a Helicarrier or the weapons systems on the quinjet.”

May nodded; that was fine with her.

“Two: At no time will Phil and/or your children –- once born -– be permitted on a vehicle you are piloting, or with you on a vehicle you could fly, period.”

It took May longer to acknowledge this stipulation. On one hand it made sense. They didn’t want her to go flying off with Phil and their kids. But on the other hand, it was until it was lost to her, did she think how amazing it would have been to show off her skills to Phil, to see if her piloting could impress him.

She nodded.

“Four: Violation of these, or any other civilian flight regulations will lead to the termination of your flight privileges, permanently.”

May was a little confused by his counting, but she nodded anyways.

“And five: As briefly mentioned earlier, Doctor Simmons can cancel your flying lessons or abrogate your flying privileges at any point during your pregnancies if she feels like they are a risk to you or the baby.”

May nodded again.

The old man looked mildly pleased, but it could have just been gas, and he asked, “Any questions?”

May couldn’t restrain herself, “Where’s three?”

Fury snorted in amusement –- she hoped.

“I was hoping you’d pick up on that, it was a test of sorts…” Fury answered for the councilman. 

May could hear Phil whisper ‘damn fool’.

“…which you passed. Congrats.”

May glared at him, glared at them all.

“And anyways I consider keeping Phil off your plane and keeping your kids off your plane to be two separate rules, but these folks disagreed with me.” Fury nodded his head at the councilman and the rest of the people on his side of the table.

“That’s it. We’ll have Blake add these clauses to your contract, but it’s over.”

The bureaucrats stood up and filed out of the room. May’s knees felt weak, she didn't dare stand up. Maria, Phil, and Hand stayed behind in the near-empty room.

“It’s over,” May said, looking up at Phil’s concerned face, Maria’s ecstatic face, and Hand’s blank face.

“It’s over!” she repeated.


	52. Chapter 52

“It’s over,” May repeated.

Maria patted her on the back, reiterating, “It’s over now.”

May folded her arms on the tabletop and rested her head on them. After so much stress and anxiety –- and lost sleep -– the inquest was over. It felt so fast, so _anticlimactic_. She just sat there, breathing, listening to her heart race.

She could hear Phil murmuring in concern, but it was in the distance.

After some indefinable period of time, May had calmed her heart down to a more reasonable 42 beats per sky-minute and felt more composed about the conclusion of the inquest.

She lifted her head from the table and murmured, “I’m fine.”

Phil’s eyes, the blue-grey of the sky during an autumn storm, swam with concern and questions, but he didn’t argue with her assessment of her condition.

Maria and Phil were quiet with consideration as they accompanied her back to her room. On one hand May didn’t have the mental energy to deal with conversation, but on the other she wasn’t some piece of obsidian ready to shatter into a million slicing shards at the least blow.

Before they reached the branching point for The Guest House, May was attacked.

A joy-fueled bundle of Skye wrapped herself around May and held on for dear life.

“I heard! That’s great! I’m so happy for you! We need to celebrate! What do you want to do? We could have a party in the flight simulator, or maybe the flight deck… “ Skye chattered.

May embraced the girl and — while cursing the dulling of her situational awareness — basked in the simple pleasure of having someone who cared about her enough to celebrate her victories with her.

Phil faux-coughed to stem the tide of Skye’s babbling. _Multiple someones_ …

“We can't get May in trouble before she can even take advantage of her new privilege!” Phil pointed out.

Skye sighed at his logic, “How about a group picnic in the observation room or something like that?”

May smiled, _that sounded like fun_. She glanced at Phil. He nodded and began mumbling ingredients and recipe times to himself as if he were preparing for an Ancestor’s feast day.

Maria smirked at Phil and nodded at May and Skye, “I’ll help out the ‘master chef’ here and you two can gather everyone else up.”

 _Everyone else?_ May wondered but didn’t ask.

Skye started tugging her down the hallway.

Maria shouted over her shoulder, “How many others should we expect?”

May shrugged, _everyone she cared about was already here. Everyone on the helicarrier, that is_.

Maria glared at May as if to say ‘we will discuss this later. At length.’

Oblivious, Skye replied, “Trip definitely, and I’ll try to get Fitzsimmons to take a break from whatever it is that they’re doing.”

Maria nodded sharply in response to both of them and trailed a still-muttering Phil.

May worked the tension out of her shoulders with one hand while Skye tugged her along with the other.

When they reached The Guest House housing hallway Skye paused outside the main thoroughfare. The clamor of children playing cascaded around them.

“Okay, how do we want to do this? I doubt Phil can roust up enough food for all the mothers and kids, but I don’t want to set anyone’s back up by not inviting them. Who are your best friends among the mothers? Then we can work from there without raising suspicions.”

May suppressed a sigh. _So much for **later**. _

“No one.”

“Come on May, you know we’ll be nice. I know it’s awkward when friend groups mix, but I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say I want to meet your other friends!” Skye wheedled.

May couldn’t hold back a sigh this time and just opened the door to The Guest House, walking around playing children and staring mothers not knowing if Skye was following or not.

When she reached her door and thumbed it open she glanced back to see Skye slowly making her way through the chaos, returning the stares of the mothers in her path.

Silently May held the door open for her, but as soon as she closed the door behind them Skye exploded.

“No friends? None? How could you live like this!?!”

May shrugged.

“I knew you never mentioned other friends, and the mothers would stare at me whenever I came by, but I never imagined! Why didn’t you tell us!?” Skye turned accusatory.

“There wasn’t anything to tell! ‘Hey Skye, my neighbors are ignoring me because I won’t kiss the ass of their queen bee!’ Yeah, right.” May snorted.

“Exactly! You don’t deserve that! We could have moved you someplace better. Someplace nicer.” Skye grabbed her hands and squeezed, “You don’t have to suffer in silence!”

May shook her off, “I don’t need them, and I don’t need you to fight my battles for me!”

Skye started laughing. May gave her a quizzical look. Skye caught her breath momentarily and continued howling with laughter. 

“Me… fighting… for you!” Skye forced out through gales of laughter.

May was still confused, but there was just something about how silly Skye’s laughter was, that after a few moments May began chuckling at her.

Soon the whole situation devolved, laughter spawning more laughter, and no one being able to actually say what was so funny.

A good fifteen minutes later found them collapsed on the couch, catching their breath, unable to look at one another out of fear of relapsing into giggles again.

“I, think, I’m, okay,” Skye panted, “How, are you?”

“Better,” May hadn’t laughed like that in years and felt strangely lighter, even though she had wet herself a little bit.

“Good.”

They lay there gasping for a while longer before Skye recommenced, “It’s not about what you need, it’s about what you deserve. And you deserve the best!”

May reached over and patted her thigh in lieu of a reply.

Skye started to sit up but winced and moaned about her sides hurting.

“You need to exercise more,” was May’s only reply.

“Don’t make me laugh again, I hurt too much,” Skye warned.

May only grinned and waddled to the bathroom.

When she returned, Skye was sitting up and furiously tapping at her pocket computer. She only glanced up momentarily before being entranced by the device again.

“There’s nothing in your contract, or The Guest House rules specifying _where_ you need to reside, nor is there any other good housing available. But Maria says Phil is almost done with his mad preparations and Trip has an unmissable meeting in an hour, so I vote we should table this for a while and get this party started.”

May nodded and then realized Skye’s eyes were still on her pocket computer, “Okay.”

Skye tapped a few more times before returning the computer to her pocket and clapping her hands, “Party time!”


	53. Chapter 53

When May and Skye arrived at the observation room, the party was already in swing, sort of.

Doctor Simmons, her friend Fitz, and Trip were bunched up around a platter of veggies and some kind of dip. May would bet it was Phil’s favorite bean-paste/hummus dip, but she couldn’t tell for certain from the doorway.

Maria, Hand, and her partner Isabelle milled around the beverage station, each with a clear cup of a bubbly brown beverage in hand.

And Phil was off in a corner, clearly fretting over his sandwiches.

May headed toward him, and Skye veered off to greet Trip and her friends.

“Can I help?” May asked when she reached Phil.

Wide-eyed Phil looked up, “Crusts or no crusts, what do you think?”

“Crusts are fine,” May replied. Part of her wanted to snort at the idea of wasting food, even in these affluent surroundings, and part of her wanted to grab his hands and  kiss him thoroughly to calm him down a few notches. But the audience stopped her from doing either. She wasn’t going to have her second kiss in front of so many people, no way, no how.

May stepped closer to Phil hoping her presence soothed him almost as much as his presence soothed her.

Whether or not that was the case, after a few moments Phil stopped placing sandwich quarters on a tray and looked up, “You should be mingling and enjoying your party!”

“Only if you join me,” was her retort.

Phil looked around at the half-assembled sandwich tray, the back-up veggie platter, the chips Trip had brought, and a mysteriously opaque box. He made a pained grimace.

May compromised, “I’ll give you five more minutes to do what you feel you must, and then if you haven’t joined the party I’ll drag you in, kicking and screaming if I must.”

Phil’s grimace morphed into a thoughtful mien, and then a determined scowl.

May merely met his eyes with her own and one raised eyebrow. Phil reconsidered and nodded meekly.

May grabbed the large bag of chips and serving bowl and joined Skye and the others. She knew she’d have to fetch Phil in six or seven minutes, but was rather pleased with her compromise idea.

Skye’s friends greeted her warmly, and, with the exception of Fitz, she was pretty sure the welcome was for her person, and not the chips. Fitz on the other hand, dug into the chips with glee exclaiming something along the lines of healthy food being the death of him.

Doctor Simmons ‘Oh Fitz’-ed and then asked May about her health and the baby’s movements.

Fitz started to look rather green at Doctor Simmons’ detailed explanation for why Amelia’s movements exhibited the patterns they did. Trip and Skye looked a little bored too, and May didn’t want them to have to come up with a good excuse to leave. _A rapid change in conversation topic was in order, but to what?_

“Why can’t you have your own babies?” May interrupted.

Skye winced slightly and Trip shifted uncomfortably. _Oops! Perhaps that wasn’t the best idea. Oh well._

Doctor Simmons took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, clearly entering teaching mode. Fitz rolled his eyes dramatically, but hey, at least he didn’t look green anymore.

“So, the textbook answer is this: The process of making eggs or ova, starts when the baby girl is herself just an embryo, and is paused in late _prophase I_ until the baby girl is a young woman. Then, one egg each month wakes up from hibernation and begins dividing up its genetic information, getting ready to meet a sperm and become an embryo. The textbooks say that something about life on the helicarrier -– the extra radiation, some environmental toxin, or something -– messes up the _centrioles_ or the _microtubules_ …”

Upon seeing the lost looks in her audience’s eyes, Doctor Simmons backed up, “Something about life on the helicarrier messes up the little biological machines that actually do the information splitting, so they don’t work as well. In 98 or 99 of 100 of my eggs, or Skye’s, or even your daughter’s May, the information won’t be divided evenly, so even if a sperm meets the egg, it will never become a healthy embryo, and die before we even notice it lived.”

Doctor Simmons paused to catch her breath. May was a little lightheaded herself. Hearing in such a clinical manner that it was _already_ decided her daughter wouldn’t be able to have children was shocking, to say the least.

“Now for men, it’s a different story,” Doctor Simmons began nodding at Fitz and Trip. “The old evolutionary battle of quality vs. quantity. Vast quantities of sperm are continuously made in the male _testes_. They never enter a hibernation stage, so the information dividing isn’t nearly as affected by the environmental toxin. Around 45 to 55 of 100 of your sperm, Fitz, are perfectly normal –- genetically speaking -– and the clinical process of sperm cleaning and sorting, or even natural ‘swimming towards the prize’ will favor the normal sperm.”

“Now, in general, the textbook explanation is valid, to a _first approximation;_  however, after 50 years of searching, we have yet to find an environmental toxin that targets microtubule formation or…”

May realized that Doctor Simmons was now getting into the nitty-gritty detail that was beyond her comprehension of English. And it had been eight minutes since she warned Phil and he was still playing with his food.

She slipped away from the lecture, surprised at how engrossed (not grossed out, **engrossed** ) the others were in Doctor Simmons’ lesson.

Silently, May stalked her prey.

He was obliviously re-organizing the sandwich platter. May wouldn’t dare venture a guess at how many times he had done so already.

She pounced, grabbing his sides.

He squealed and dropped the sandwich he was holding.

May darted backward as Phil turned around arms outstretched, hunting for an attacker.

Phil stood there blinking, nonplused; May giggled.

“I warned you,” she taunted playfully.

Phil sighed dramatically, and only then did May realize that everyone was staring at them. If she could, she would have turned invisible, but since she couldn’t, she stood straighter and acknowledged her amused audience with a regal nod.

“Um, the sandwiches are ready, everybody,” a scarlet Phil announced.

May wondered if Amelia would have this intriguing sky-person trait of turning pink when embarrassed.

The half-dozen or so guests meandered toward the food, and Maria brought May a most welcome fizzy lemonade. She studied the top of the bottle intently, to avoid making eye contact with the crowd.

After everyone had grabbed some food and settled on the floor, May felt a little less foolish, and was able to grab her own food and rejoin them.

Folks had arranged themselves on the floor in a rough semicircle, perfect for taking in the view, and between it, and the food, conversation was sparse.

May took a bite of her beef sandwich, savoring the juicy meat, crunchy lettuce, and tangy sauce. The helicarrier was currently over a bright green jungle-area, and May wished she could bottle her contentment to save for a later date.

Once everyone had taken the edge off of their hunger, the conversation picked up a bit.

Isabelle Hartley politely asked how May’s pregnancy was proceeding, and May answered her judiciously. She was grateful Doctor Simmons was distracted by nagging Fitz into eating some of the lettuce he had picked out of his sandwiches. She doubted Izzy wanted _that_ much detail.

Phil interrupted May’s polite inquiry into Izzy’s profession to ask if she wanted anything more to eat. May knew Phil wouldn’t be satisfied with a noncommittal ‘I’m fine’, so she asked for another half roast beef sandwich and some of those sweet, white, carrot-like things.

When she turned back to Izzy –- after watching Phil march off on his ‘mission’ -– she was greeted by a wistful grin. May chose not to acknowledge her acquaintance’s sappiness and focused instead on returning to the lapsed conversation.

May enjoyed hearing about Izzy’s job as an SHIELD agent, and her childhood in the crèche. May finished Phil’s offerings while continuing to get to know Maria and Phil’s co-worker. Izzy had a biting, snarky sense of humor, but was rather sentimental too. She offered May her beloved blue stuffed camel for Amelia, and told May a few of her childhood adventures with Samuel the camel.

May was wiping tears of laughter from her eyes when Phil pounded on the serving table and called the party to order.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming here today, and celebrating May and the successful conclusion of this silly inquest. I for one, am grateful for May’s presence in my life, and um… three cheers for May!”

Phil’s ears were bright red with embarrassment. Their friends cheered. May studied the placement of crumbs on her plate intently.

When the clapping and loud _whoop-whoop_  –- primarily from Skye –- died down, Phil started passing out pieces of cake.

May waited until everyone, including Phil, had their own dark brown wedge of cake with strawberries before trying it. It was amazing.

It was chocolate, as the dark brown color foretold, but it was fluffy, and airy, and contrasted so well with the tangy sweetness of the strawberries in syrup. It was a chocolate-flavored cloud, and May wanted –- no, needed -– more.

May wedged her feet underneath her and tried to propel herself into a standing position. Her lower back seized, and her head rushed with the pain. When her vision cleared, Doctor Simmons and Phil stood over her, bearing warring countenances of concern.

“My back hurt when I tried to stand,” May explained, attempting to alleviate their worry.

Doctor Simmons elaborated that back pain was common in the last trimester, and postulated that sitting on the ground was the likely cause. She continued, but May stopped paying attention.

Phil had squatted behind her and was massaging her twinging back. At first the pressure was painful, but his proximity sent her heart racing. Soon the pain turned pleasant. She closed her eyes to embrace the sensations and her tender nipples peaked. May was so lost in her perceptions that she didn’t realize the animalistic moan was hers until Phil stopped and asked if she was okay.

She nodded, and looked around the room. Her friends were pointedly ignoring them, which was even more embarrassing than if they had been staring at them.

May grabbed Phil’s arm and asked for help standing.

After a few failed attempts they discovered the least-painful way of getting May upright involved Phil standing over May’s bent knees, and lifting her up by the armpits. The elaborate procedure spared her all but the mildest twinges, but resulted in standing belly-to-chest with Phil’s arms wrapped around her.

She stared up into his glinting blue eyes. Her heart pounded. The only thing that mattered was Phil’s warmth pressed against her bulging belly and his hands meandering from her armpits to the small of her back. Phil was the only thing that mattered, until Amelia kicked her in the bladder in infantile jealousy.

May stepped back, swallowed a few times to work up enough moisture to force out ‘Bathroom’, and then fled.


	54. Chapter 54

When May returned from the nearest restroom –- she was certain she knew the location of every public bathroom on the helicarrier better than even those in charge of keeping them clean –- Phil was standing outside the observation room looking so guilty that if May didn’t know better, she’d suspect he’d killed someone and needed help hiding the body.

May hid her grin at that thought, certainly he’d know the helicarrier better than she did, and she wouldn’t be much help at carrying at the moment.

“I’m so sorry May. I promise that’ll never happen again.”

“That’s sad,” May quipped. “I rather enjoyed it.”

Phil blinked, dumbfounded, “But…?”

“Your daughter kicked me, so I really _needed_ to go.”

“Oh. Oh! Oh?”

May watched the waves of realization crash over Phil’s face. She stepped into his ‘personal bubble’ -– Skye's term for the sky-people’s odd need for almost a meter of space between them. May’s eyes never left his astonished ones. She forced him to acknowledge that she wanted _this_. She needed him to know that _she_ was choosing this. She needed him to accept that her feelings were real.

Step by step she made her inexorable way towards him. She wrapped one arm around his waist and another around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.

He followed her cues, wrapping his arms around her. He held her close, practically curling around her stomach. She inhaled his unique scent overlaid with chocolate and felt safe. They stood that way for a second, for a year, until Amelia decided to kick her father.

Phil stepped back, wonder and confusion writ large on his face.

“Was that…?”

“Yes, that was Amelia,” May replied with a small smirk on her face. It was good to know Amelia didn’t play favorites and was just as willing to kick her father if the opportunity arose.

Phil beamed, awestruck.

“May I?” He asked, his hand a mere centimeter from the swell of her stomach.

In answer, May placed his hand over Amelia’s feet.

They waited. The joy on Phil’s face was worth memorizing, to hold in her heart forever. They waited.

“She might not…” May began, and stopped when she felt Amelia’s kick.

“Wow,” Phil breathed with all of the solemnity and awe of a religious experience.

A minute later Amelia stilled again and Phil tore his eyes from his hand resting on the well of her stomach.

“Wow!” he repeated. His eyes were glistening with reverence and adoration.

May wrapped her hands around his neck and tenderly guided him down for a kiss.

Her lips brushed against his, and after a moment of stillness, he returned the pressure, caressing the small of her back at the same time. His moist tongue skimmed the seam of her lips in an unusual but not unpleasant way. She parted her lips at the contact and his tongue darted into her mouth. He skimmed along her tongue and stroked the inside of her mouth.

She didn’t know what it was that he was doing, or what she was supposed to be doing with her tongue, but she wanted it to continue forever. Her center throbbed in time with his ministrations and her heart thundered.

Her desires or no, it could not continue forever, she needed to breathe. May pulled away –- just to his shoulder -– and panted, catching her breath.

As she gasped, she played with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, hoping that this petting would reassure Phil that all was well -– perfect in fact. And his hair was so fine and soft; it just begged to be caressed.

As her breathing calmed –- and her heart rate returned to normal –- Phil eased away just far enough he could focus on her face without straining.

“How was that?” he asked with a self-satisfied smile.

May snorted, observing his smirk. He was just fishing for compliments and she didn’t need to stroke his ego in addition to his neck.

Phil cupped her face and brought her eyes to his, asking earnestly, “How was it?”

“Exquisite,” she sighed.

His cheeky grin returned.

“What _was_ that?” she asked, both curious and wanting to distract him before she gave into her urge to kiss that smirk right off of his face. She didn’t know what kind of kiss that was, but she was a quick learner and was certain she could repay him.

“A kiss.”

She glowered.

“A very special kiss?” he tried.

“I’d say,” she said dryly, nestling her chin into the crook of his neck, her new favorite place.

They stood belly-to-chest, cheek-to-shoulder, breathing in each other’s breath for a crystalline, uncountable, moment in time. Until May felt the neck-prickles of a third party’s gaze, and stepped away.

Phil gazed upon her with curious eyes and a beatific smile.

“Is there any more of that chocolate cloud cake left?” she asked, flailing around for a topic.

“Let’s see,” he replied. He pulled her back into the observation room, his large hand enveloping her smaller one. He led her to the remnants of the cake, never releasing his hold on her, but neither did she want him too.

A quick scan of the room revealed one flushed Skye standing near Trip, attempting to look natural. _I knew it,_ May thought.

Phil reluctantly relinquished her hand so she could eat the remaining piece of the chocolate cloud cake. It was just as delectable as her first piece, but it was much harder to enjoy the decadent flavors and mouth-feel with the weight of the whole room’s eyes upon her.

May caught Phil’s eye and then glanced meaningfully at the knot of people still seated by the large window. _How can we get them to leave?_

He shrugged, uncomprehending.

She gazed at them and then nodded out the door. _Let’s lose this crowd._

Phil cocked his head, still not understanding her.

She shrugged, shaking her head. _It’s not important, but it’s a good thing you’re such a good kisser._

He nodded slightly and half-smiled.

Communication failure or no, the guests started trickling out –- after staying just long enough to see how the drama resolved itself.

Izzy and Hand were the first ones to leave, after congratulating May and wishing her and Phil all the best. Fitz and Simmons, who made a few third-trimester dietary recommendations, followed them out shortly.

Soon only the core quartet and a few carrot sticks remained.

“Okay, we’ve got to talk,” Maria declared.

Skye looked serious –- an atypical look for her –- and Phil just looked confused.

May sighed. She’d hoped that she could postpone this particular conversation for a while –- and just revel in the glow of that kiss -– but apparently not.


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we enter the ‘poor communication’ portion of our story.

May straightened her back and replied, “Okay. Let’s talk.”

She would rather deal with the other mothers -– Raina in particular -– in her own way (namely ignoring them and dealing out a few snarky replies when prodded) but she knew Skye wasn’t easily dissuaded, and Maria was even more unmovable.

May stood staring at Maria and Skye. Maria and Skye stood staring at May. _There was no way May was going to start. If Maria and Skye wanted to talk about the issues with Raina, then Maria and Skye would have to be the ones to start talking._

“What’s going on guys?” Phil asked confused, eyes darting between the three women.

 _Or not…_ May reanalyzed the costs and benefits of staying silent and realized that if Skye went first Phil would probably freak out.

“The other mothers in The Guest House basically ignore me,” May began.

“May doesn’t have any friends!” Skye interrupted, “She can’t live like that!”

Phil reached for her hand, whether it was to comfort himself or her, May was unsure. “Is this true?”

May shrugged, “It’s fine, really. They haven’t _done_ anything to me.”

“But The Guest Houses are supposed to provide a pleasant, tribe-like, living environment for the benefit of mother and children. And so if it isn’t, we’ve failed you,” Maria spoke up.

May covered her womb protectively. She hadn’t thought of Amelia. The other mothers could be as nasty as they please to her and it would be no skin off of her back, but just the thought that they’d slight her daughter -– or urge their children to avoid Amelia -– filled May with rage.

“I’ve already read through the contract and some by-laws, and there’s nothing anywhere that limits mothers-to-be or mothers in any one location. The spirit of the law -– like Maria said –- is to provide the mother with the best living situation that is reasonably achievable. And this sure isn’t it,” Skye orated.

May found herself actually nodding along.

“I’ve looked into other English-speaking Guest Houses -– here and on other helicarriers…”

Phil hissed and clutched at May’s hand in an almost-painful manner.

“Chill A.C.” Skye commanded sharply before continuing, “But the other English-speaking Guest Houses here are full or speak a dialect that will be nearly incomprehensible. And I ruled out transferring May to a different helicarrier ‘cause that would just make her stress and isolation worse, D’uh!”

May raised an eyebrow at her supposed stress but didn’t interrupt. She would be the last one to suggest that she’d be separated from Maria, Phil, and Skye.

“So yeah…” Skye concluded.

“Okay,” Maria said.

“What do _you_ want May?” Phil asked, his eyes glistening with earnestness.

_She’d like to move in with Phil; he had at least one spare bedroom and that great kitchen, but she didn’t want to put him on the spot and force her way into his living space. If she asked, of course he’d agree out of misplaced feelings of obligation. She didn’t want it that way._

His earnest eyes bore into her soul, she resisted. She shifted under his gaze.

Finally May shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Phil grimaced. Skye huffed, disbelieving.

“Well you can’t stay where you are.” Maria began listing suggestions, “You could move into a Guest House where you can’t speak to most of the women?”

May frowned and shook her head. _That didn’t sound like an improvement._

“Is there any unoccupied paternal family housing?” Maria asked Skye.

Skye shook her head, “I already checked, and no, not on this helicarrier.”

“Any two bedroom units available?”

“Nope,” Skye popped on the P, “Except for Phil’s?” Her eyes glinted mischievously.

May’s eyes darted to Phil, meticulously taking note of his expressions. He froze, then frowned consideringly, and then nodded.

“That might work,” Phil began.

 _Yes?!_ May could hardly breathe with anticipation.

“I’ll move back into the barracks.”

_NO!_

“No. That’s not fair,” May exclaimed after taking control of herself.

Phil examined her. She could feel the others’ curious gazes too. She floundered for an explanation, any excuse other than ‘but I want to live with you.’

“That… that’s your _home_ , your specially designed kitchen. You shouldn’t have to move out… What about that first place I lived in?”

“Intake housing?” Skye asked.

May nodded.

“That’s tiny! And not built for a family,” Phil protested.

“But I could stay there for a couple of months, until something else opens up?” May pondered.

Maria and Phil nodded hesitantly.

Skye frowned, “I guess you have 10 or 11 weeks left until the baby is fully cooked, that might be enough time for something to open up or to find you a better place.”

May snorted at the ‘fully cooked’ bit but nodded.

Phil looked unconvinced.

Maria hmmmed, “Are you _sure_ you want to move back into intake housing?”

May nodded. _She **wanted** to move in with Phil, not steal his dream home from him, but if he didn’t want to live with her, then she wouldn’t push it._

“Well, I guess it’s practically baby-proofed already, and has its own bathroom, so that’s better than most alternatives,” Maria thought aloud.

“I don’t need much room, and I already know where everything is already…” May began.

“And it’s already hooked up to the dumbwaiter system,” Maria interrupted, still thinking aloud, “And it’s close to the med-bay.”

Phil was still unconvinced.

“Why don’t you want to live in my apartment?” he asked, sounding almost hurt.

May considered, replying, “Nothing’s wrong with your apartment, but it’s yours, not mine…”

“We can make it yours,” Phil entreated.

“And what about the baby-proofing and the food situation?” May countered.

“Those can be fixed, easily,” Phil replied.

May fixed Skye with a glare that plainly said _this is your fault, you started it, you fix it._ Unlike earlier, Skye understood.

“Phil, this is May’s choice, let’s respect that,” Skye said.

Phil deflated. “Okay. Sorry, May.”

May heaved a silent sigh of relief, until Skye glared at her with her ‘we’ll talk about this later’ face.

Maria glanced between them, a slightly puzzled expression on her face, “Okay, how quickly can we move May out of The Guest House?”

Skye stared at the ceiling in contemplation, “We’ll have to fill out some paperwork to get a room, clean it, deactivate the RMS, activate the internal passpad, and then move May’s stuff… so, three days?”

“I’ll expedite the paperwork,” Phil said eagerly. It was clear he was trying to be helpful to make up for his earlier contentiousness.

“Good,” Skye replied, “And I can take care of the IT stuff as soon as we have a place.”

“And I make a great beast of burden,” Maria quipped.

“Sounds good,” May sagged imperceptibly, relieved to have this conversation over. Between the inquest and the party, and the kissing, all she wanted was a nice nap.


	56. Chapter 56

Phil shot a pained smile at May and then hurried over to the remains of the chips and began tidying up. He was clearly back to the ‘running away from May’ stage. She shook her head; she didn’t have the energy to fix whatever was wrong right now.

Maria examined May curiously before turning on her heel and helping Phil clean up the party.

May caught Skye’s eye and then nodded out the door. Skye nodded and followed her out. May didn’t need an escort -– she had only wanted to let Skye know she was leaving –- but she was too exhausted to put up a fight.

They walked back to The Guest House in semi-companionable silence.

Thankfully The Guest House hallways were empty; it must be nap time for the children too.

Skye took advantage of the lack out an audience to begin, “About the…”

May cut her off with a sharp shake of her head, “Not now. Please, not now. I just can’t.”

Skye’s mouth slammed shut. Her eyes clouded with confusion, and then she nodded, “Okay. It can wait.”

May didn’t act in time to hold back a sigh of relief.

Skye’s lips made a pained moue and she beat a hasty retreat.

May closed her door behind Skye, and she sagged against it. She would apologize to the girl later, but this day had just been too much.

After a moment -– or five -– May pushed off of the door and walked to her room. She pulled off the clothes she had donned a half-life ago and collapsed onto the bed. After some adjusting she found a position on her left side that was comfortable enough with a pillow between her knees that she should have been able to sleep.

Should being the operative word. Her mind was too full for her body to rest. So much had changed, so much had happened. She should be thrilled that the World Security Council had ruled in her favor and she could fly for real, in the sky.

But instead she couldn’t stop thinking about Phil being so eager to abandon his perfect home -– and her -– to live in the barracks, for her. Later perhaps she would be able to acknowledge how sweet that was, but in this time, in this place it just enraged her. How could he abandon her perfect dream like that, without hesitation?

Kaia picked up on her agitation and started kicking her. May rubbed her belly soothingly. How could Phil abandon Kaia like that? Didn’t he still want to cook for his children like he’d dreamed? How could he?!

A smaller, more rational part of May’s mind reminded her that Phil could still cook for Kaia at his dream kitchen even if he lived in the barracks. May told that rational part of herself to shut up. Kaia agreed with a well-timed kick.

Rational thought was for a different time. She was mourning. Mourning her nascent dream, murdered before she had even fully realized it.

Eventually May had mourned all of the bonuses of sharing Phil’s apartment –- back massages whenever she wanted them, knowing where Phil was at all times, and pumpkin chocolate muffins or pear and goat cheese scones whenever she was hungry –- and acknowledged the drawbacks –- having to listen to him whenever he wanted to talk, having to taste-test his new recipes (like those kale-infused brownies), and having to share space and clutter with him –- and she fell asleep.

* * *

May slept all the way until morning, waking up to a bursting bladder and ravenous stomach. She addressed those two critical needs and stared around at her living space. It was nice, large, bright, clean, semi-personalized, and yet she didn’t regret leaving it. The space wasn’t what tied her to the helicarrier, it was the people.

Lacking anything better to do, she started packing. Or well not packing, as she didn’t have boxes, but pre-packing. She gathered similar things in groups that were about the right size to fill a box.

The baby’s room was easiest, most of the clothes, toys and accoutrements were already well grouped. She wrapped the picture of a flock of birds taking off from Maria in the fuzzy monkey blanket from Fitz and Simmons.

By mid-day May had done all that she could do. It wasn’t that she was eager to be gone per se, but she needed to do _something_.

Luckily for the state of her apartment, Maria arrived before May could re-sort all of her piles.

When May heard the knock on her door, she was fully expecting Skye and rehashing of yesterday’s housing issues and was much relieved to see Maria instead.

“Wanna catch some time on the sim and see how much you’ve forgotten?” Maria asked without any oft-annoying small talk.

“Oh yes,” May replied without hesitation, abandoning her re-sorted stack of kitchen gear instantly.

The walk to the flight simulator was blissfully quiet, and May was gratified to learn that she hadn’t forgotten any part of the quinjet start-up sequence during her full month of flightlessness.

It wasn’t until they were in the air that Maria breached the amicable silence, “Why didn’t you tell me about the other mothers?”

May knew this was coming, and still it pained her to reply, “I hadn’t thought about what it would mean for Kaia.”

Maria was silent; looking straight out the simulated windows, yet May knew she demanded more.

“I could handle the mothers and their shunning. I could handle their occasional nasty remark. I’ve been through worse and they weren’t going to actually hurt me.”

May paused, “I had you, and Phil, and Skye, and that was enough was enough.”

The pair was quiet, contemplative.

“You said you had us, but it hurts us that you didn’t turn to us when you needed it. We want to help, but how can we if you don’t let us know when you need it?”

May hadn’t thought of it from that perspective, “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I’m sorry.”

Maria nodded, and May returned her eyes to the sky.

The cockpit was quiet for maybe five minutes before Maria spoke again, “Speaking of letting us help you, why don’t you want to move into Phil’s apartment? It’s practically perfect.”

May sighed, how could she put this into words?

After a moment she began, “It would be nice, to live in Phil’s apartment. But I don’t want take it from him…”

Maria interrupted her, “Oh no, not that shit again! You’re not taking it from him; Phil would give it up to you gladly if it would make your and your child’s life one iota better. What is the real issue here?”

May stared out the window, working up the courage to voice her dream.

“I don’t want Phil to move out. I want to share it with him,” her voice cracked with feeling.

“Oh.”

The rest of the flight passed in silence. May wanted to ask Maria what she meant by ‘oh’ but she was also happy that the conversation was over. Her laconic nature over came her curiosity.


	57. Chapter 57

After the end of the flight lesson, May and Maria went their separate ways. Maria had to get back to work –- or so she said -– and May had to get back to doing nothing.

_No, wait, she could pick up boxes and start packing for real._

May headed to the Commissary and grabbed some moving boxes.

Before dinner she was completely packed. _Now what?_

She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Amelia kicked her. May poked her back. They started playing ‘poke the foot’. Eventually Amelia grew tired of the game and left May starting at the ceiling pondering her future, and Phil, until she grew hungry.

* * *

The next two days passed slowly. Painfully slow. So slow May even attempted to read a thick book by herself, several times, before giving up completely.

The slow passage of time was only broken up by one visit from Skye. She popped by to give May an update on the new apartment and the move. She also let May know that Phil had disappeared, but not to worry, Maria had filled Skye in on ‘the issue’ and as soon as Phil returned from his vital mission they’d sort him out.

Whatever that meant, Skye refused to elaborate.

This information certainly didn’t make May’s interminable wait any easier, but finally it was time to move.

Maria, Skye, and Trip –- whom Skye had volun-told –- showed up and began reversing the move of more than three months ago, except this time May had even more stuff and was of even less help.

On the first trip over, Trip and Skye raced ahead while Maria kept to May’s slower pace.

“You shouldn’t worry about Phil,” Maria began.

May snorted derisively, “Like I can control that!”

Maria inclined her head in acknowledgement of May’s point, but continued, “Phil is just running scared. He’ll calm down soon enough and turn up with his tail between his legs after this mission.”

May reluctantly hummed in agreement and shifted the blanket-wrapped picture from her left side to her right.

“You’ll see,” Maria concluded.

May continued walking in silence.

Several trips later May had to bow out. She hated leaving the others with the work, but her lower back, knees, ankles, and even her wrists ached.

They others said that it was totally fine, and Skye even joked that it was Phil she was annoyed at for running off and not helping.

May lay on her new bed, with a magical _heating pad,_ and tried not to feel too guilty about the move.

Before she was in too much pain to help, they’d transferred most of the stuff she would need over the next few months. Skye had volunteered some of her space to store the baby stuff and Maria had found a bit of unoccupied storage space near the flight deck for the kitchen stuff. There just wasn’t enough room for all the things May had acquired, which was pretty crazy.

By the time May’s lower back had unclenched and even her knees were feeling better, Maria popped in to let her know that her old place was now empty and ask if she was up to doing one last walk-through to check.

May eagerly agreed and carefully walked to her old apartment one last time. She tested her joints for tenderness while attempting to move normally to not alert Maria to the extent of her pain.

Checking all the nooks and crannies of her apartment was an exercise in limberness and May was pleased to discover her body mostly obeyed her commands.

In the end she found one rebellious onesie, a sock, and a desiccated breakfast bar. _Not too bad._

After a moment of contemplation, not mourning the apartment but remembering the good times –- cooking with Phil, watching movies with Skye, and simply hanging out with Maria -– and saying goodbye.

One lone sock tucked in her pocket; May closed her apartment door behind her for the last time.

She looked up to a most unpleasant sight: Raina, and a host of her cronies, were smirking at her. Raina in particular looked so smug and self-satisfied, like she’d actually won something! _Such a sad, little queen of a sad, little hill_.

May didn’t deign to say anything to the watching women and strode out of The Guest House with her head held high trailed by her good friend Maria. Raina could rule over her little domain. May had real treasure: friends who cared for her, and supported her, and fought for her; and Phil… if he ever came back from his last-minute mission.


	58. Chapter 58

Several days passed as May unpacked and settled into her new room in intake housing. Phil hadn’t returned, yet Maria and Skye kept pretending that nothing was out of the ordinary.

Skye hosted another movie night with a different flavor of amazing ice cream, and Maria scheduled May’s third-party flight simulation exam. Maria asked a friend on another helicarrier to ask his former flight instructor -– a woman she had never met but had heard only good things about -– to insure maximum neutrality.

By the time May’s exam arrived, Phil still hadn’t returned. He’d been missing for six days!

May tried to push her worry about him to the back of her mind as she dressed for the exam. She donned a midnight blue stretchy top and black stretchy pants -– the closest she could get to Maria’s uniform -– in the hopes that the examiner, a one Margaret Carter, would subconsciously see her as more competent. Of course, there was no way to hide her more than 6-months along belly.

With her anxiety in a stranglehold, May arrived at the special examination flight simulator 15 minutes early and focused on her breathing.

In.  _One, two, three, four, five._ Hold. _One, two, three, four, five._ Out. _One, two, three, four, five._

In.  _One, two, three, four, five._ Hold. _One, two, three, four, five._ Out. _One, two, three, four, five._

She thought through the emergency mid-flight engine re-start sequence, just in case. She reminded herself that she could do this – Skye’s advice from the night before.

Three minutes before the exam was scheduled to start, an elegant woman with cartoon-red lips, hair styled in some sort of gravity-defying upsweep, and a navy blue dress arrived.

Was _this_ her examiner? May was perplexed. She had expected someone more like Maria, in uniform with no-nonsense hair, but to be on the safe side she asked, “Margaret Carter?”

“Please call me Peggy,” replied the woman who looked like she stepped straight out of one of Skye’s movies. Her accent was odd, but still understandable. In fact, it was almost like Dr. Simmons’.

‘Peggy’ thumbed open the simulator and gestured imperiously at the mock cockpit. May obeyed the unspoken command and entered, adjusting the quinjet’s pilot’s chair to fit her shorter legs and protruding belly. She began talking through the pre-flight checklist as if Maria was in the seat next to her. Peggy smiled broadly at her initiative, or something. May focused on the quinjet, hearing Maria’s voice talk her through the pre-flight.

May paused before starting the engine, wordlessly querying Peggy. She nodded, giving May her permission to start.

May initiated the engine, checking and double-checking everything was green to go. She checked with Peggy again and received another nod.

May released the parking brake. This simulation had a very long taxi, mimicking something from before Gods walked the earth, not the more thrilling launch from a helicarrier. That kind of takeoff was one of May’s favorite simulations with the intense cross winds and minimal margin for error. Those and flying through intense storms.

May taxied slowly, using the opportunity to triple-check various diagnostics, especially the slightly-slower-to-respond-than-May-was-used-to right wing fan.

Finally they reached the runway. It was far longer than the quinjet needed, as it was fully capable of vertical takeoff and landing, but clearly this was a beginner’s simulation, and traditional takeoffs were easier.

May checked for her third go-ahead, and received it. May pulled down the yoke and set the takeoff thrust. She flipped the TP/GA switches. They were moving.

She checked the wind speeds and the engine. Everything looked good.

She increased the takeoff thrust slightly and held the yoke steady as the push of air beneath the wings began to lift the quinjet off of the runway.

Up, up, up she went; the thrill of the opening climb undiminished by her numerous practice flights.

May retracted the landing gear and outboard flaps as she continued to gain altitude. The laggy right wing fan was hardly noticeable. Once she reached 5,000 feet she tore her eyes from the various dials to sneak a peek at Peggy. She was smiling, not the broad, almost insincere grin of earlier, but a smaller, more believable smile. May concluded she was satisfied and returned her attention to her dials and the beautiful sky.

The flight was mild, a small bit of unexpected turbulence to fly through, but it was nothing compared to most of her other simulations –- just a pleasant day’s flight.

Peggy drew the examination to an abrupt end with a terse, “I think I’ve seen more than enough.”

The simulated sky in the windows was instantaneously replaced with a matt black screen and the controls locked in neutral position. This had never happened to May before, and a burst of momentary terror filled her heart. _It’s not her fault the simulation was so easy!_

“It’s clear to me that this was a mere formality, Ms. May. It’s clear that you know your way around a cockpit,” Peggy Carter said.

May _almost_ felt faint from the relief and joy, and was certainly glad she was still seated.

“I have absolutely no reservations recommending your training continue. In fact I think it’s a damn shame you’re being restricted to civilian flights, but that’s above my paygrade. I wish you and the famed Maria Hill all the best and give me a ring in a month or so when you’re ready to test for your license,” with that, Peggy stood up and strode out of the exam room, a bright red smile on her face.

It took May a bit longer to exit, between the pleasant surprise and her body not quite working the way it used to. Once she got her legs under herself and working properly she waddled out of the exam room. She wished she could skip like a little girl or a spring foal, but she knew that would only end in disaster. Instead she gave into the urge to grin broadly and set out to find Maria and give her the great news. _Well, first a restroom, then Maria_. May amended, her bladder having just brought itself to her attention.


	59. Chapter 59

After a pit stop and a bit of searching, May found Maria in the Aviation bay. She shared the good news.

Maria insisted on a celebratory trip to the cafeteria and a brownie feast. _What was it with Sky-people and their dependence on food for celebration?_

In her tribe -– which May was shocked to realize she no longer considered ‘home’ –- a surplus of food was a cause for celebration, but having something to celebrate didn’t result it special food. There just wasn’t enough to do that. Gathering together and telling tales, and rarely Weiyin breaking out his _mijiu_ , was the common method of celebrating something such as a baby being born, a difficult trading mission being successfully over, or such.

That being said, the brownies were tasty, as usual, and Maria was great company, as usual, asking about the exam and the infamous Peggy Carter.

It was nice, talking about how easy the exam was –- to which Maria just smirked knowingly –- but she still asked more detailed questions and dragged specifics out of May.

Her third brownie in, May even tentatively asked why Peggy Carter looked like a movie star.

Maria burst out laughing. May was torn between annoyance and confusion and just sat there chewing, waiting for Maria to stop laughing and explain herself.

In between pants, Maria began, “It’s just so… perfect. Movie star… Peggy Carter… Her hair…!”

After a longer pause, she began to make sense, “My goodness, that’s the best laugh I’ve had in ages! Just your description of Peggy Carter as a movie star is just too perfect. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve overheard new transfers and the like complain about how a woman who looked like she’d never chipped a nail could fight with such lethality and fly so adroitly! But I never thought I’d hear it from you!”

Maria laughed a bit more, “But really, she’s one of the best pilots in the world, and it shouldn’t matter what she wears in her off time. But it’s rumor-worthy, and I think that’s hilarious.”

May didn’t quite get the humor of the situation, but she nodded and smiled in agreement with Maria. Sometimes, when she thought she understood Maria, Skye, or Phil, they’d do something completely incomprehensible. Oh well.

Maria chuckled and then returned to asking May about the exam, and specifically the laggy right wing fan.

After the brownies had been polished off, the exam completely rehashed, and May’s first non-simulated (!!!) flight planned, May asked about Phil.

Maria’s face froze, losing its hint of a grin, “He’s still on his cross-carrier mission.’

May nodded firmly, well d’uh, as Skye would say. Even if Phil was still hiding from May as some sort of bizarre punishment for not wanting to take his apartment from him, someone would have told her he’d returned. Even Simmons and Trip had found pretexts to drop by and let her know that they were ‘keeping an ear to the ground’ as Trip put it, and would let her know if they heard about Phil.

“I don’t really know much more than that, they’re keeping the details of the mission pretty hush-hush, need to know and all that. All I ‘need to know’, which you do too, is that it involves a powered person and a massive hammer,” Maria shrugged.

May nodded accepting this new information.

“This really should be his last field mission. He really is transitioning to desk work, but they needed the best on this one.”

May felt a small surge of pride. Of course Phil was the best.

At the same time she wondered if her housing situation played a role in Phil being particularly indispensable for this particular mission. She shook her head. That wasn’t a helpful thought.

“He is all right? When will he return?” May asked instead.

Maria frowned, “I haven’t heard that he isn’t fine… but I don’t know when he’ll return either.”

May pursed her lips and then grunted in pain. Amelia also didn’t like Maria’s answer.

Maria started forward, her face a mask of concern.

May shooed her back, “The baby just kicked my spine. It’s okay.”

Maria made a look of disgust, suggesting she didn’t think that sounded okay, but she sat back down.

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew more. But I don’t.”

May nodded and ran a soothing hand over her belly.

Maria perked up, with a mischievous glint to her eye, “I could send him a message saying that you or the baby were in distress. That would get him home quickly.”

May grimaced, “No! We can’t tempt the gods like that. And it would unnecessarily worry Phil. We’ll just have to be patient.”

Maria nodded in acceptance.

“We’ll just hope he returns soon. Or I might change my mind,” May joked.

Maria quirked a half-grin, “I can talk to Doctor Simmons, maybe there is a case for the suspense hurting you or the baby. Maybe that will give us a ‘need’ to know a bit more.”

May smiled at that idea and nodded. The Sky-people would do almost anything for one of their unborn children. Maybe they could use that to their advantage.

Maria’s mischievous grin faded, “I’m sorry May. I wish there was something I could do to make this all better. I wish I could pull Phil from this mission and sort everything out.”

“But you can’t and that’s okay, Maria; really.” May reached across the cafeteria table and grabbed Maria’s hand. Maria squeezed her hand in response.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Maria said reluctantly.

May nodded.

“I guess I’ll see you in two days?”

“See you then,” May replied.

Maria left the cafeteria, glancing behind her frequently on her way out. May picked up the plate of brownie crumbs and brushed off the table.

She returned to her room in intake housing, her heart a complex mix of exhilaration from the flight exam, multiple worries about Phil, and gratitude toward Maria.

With all of the day’s excitements, she decided a nap was more that justified, even though it wasn’t even 11 am.


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to CrazyMaryT, MelindaTheCavalryMay, nessnessquik, SYM, and everyone else who has been concerned about Phil’s safety.
> 
> Check out the amazing banner made by my beta xyber116 below.

Two days later May was doing some mild stretches in her room. Simmons had claimed it would make her feel more at ease in her own rapidly-changing body (she was expanding by more than a centimeter a week which Simmons _said_ was normal), and she needed to be top form for this afternoon -– for her first real flight. Maria was going to do the takeoff and landing, but still her first real flight!

Frantic knocking interrupted May in the middle of ‘triangle pose’, a stretch that was supposedly good for her back, legs, and hips. May dropped her hand and stepped her feet together before waddling to the door.

She was curious, her flight with Maria wasn’t for another six hours and there was no way she’d forget about **that!**

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” Skye yelled the instant May opened the door. She grabbed May’s arm and started tugging her out of her room and down the hall.

May followed unresisting, yet puzzled, “What’s going on?”

“Why didn’t you answer my call!?! Or Jemma’s?” Skye demanded, pulling her through the hallway.

_Oh, so that’s what that soft chiming sound was!_ “I didn’t hear it?”

Skye sighed.

May asked again, “What’s going on?”

“Phil’s on his way back and we’ve got to get to the Aviation bay.”

May dug in her heels, suddenly awash with annoyance.

“Come on!” Skye protested.

_Phil had been gone for eight days, without a word. She wasn’t about to rush off to welcome him home. If he wanted to see her, if he wanted to apologize to her, he had to come to her._

“There’s been a medical emergency and every doctor on board, even obstetricians like Jemma, are gathering in the Aviation bay.”

May’s irritation instantly vaporized, overset with terror. She waddle-raced down the hall and Skye had to hurry to catch up with her. _If Phil died before they could sort things out, she’d kill him!_

When May arrived at the Aviation bay –- out of breath yet not as sore as she’d thought she’d be, maybe Simmons’ stretches did help -– the main flight deck was roped off and the aisles to either side were overflowing with at least 100 people. The crowd was full of white-jacketed doctors, crew in black skin-tight suits, and people in odd bright orange vests.

There was no way May would be able to force her way through that crowd without attracting attention, and there was no way the Sky-people would let a clearly pregnant Guest mother close to danger.

May, accompanied by a fretting Skye, walked around the crowd and up to the walkway that ran around the outside of the bay. It was further away, but with the height she’d be able to see Phil as soon as he landed.

May waited, focusing on her breathing while an anxious Skye clutched her hand hard enough to cut off circulation.

They didn’t have to wait too long. 112 breaths later, a loud klaxon sounded. The crowd below churned with anticipation.

The hangar door opened and a slight breeze played with May’s hair despite the laminar flow barrier.

A quinjet broached the barrier and the breeze picked up momentarily. The quinjet landed. The segment of crowd nearest to it broke off. The aft ramp opened and they funneled in in an orderly fashion.

May held her breath.

Two black-suited crewmembers helped out two other black-suited crew, followed by a third and all five made a beeline out of the Aviation bay. Some of the crew had dark skin, two were women, and one had spiky green hair. None were Phil.

Most of the orange-vested people exited the quinjet and returned to the waiting crowd.

A few moments later, the three doctors rolled an injured crewmember out on a wheeled examination table. She had long blonde hair. Not Phil. Just as they had exited the bay, the klaxon sounded again.

May held her breath.

The second quinjet did not contain Phil.

May abandoned controlling her breathing and fixated instead on returning Skye’s favor and squeezing all the blood out of _her_ hand.

Another klaxon, another quinjet, still no Phil.

The fourth quinjet, however, was it.

About half of the remaining crowd filed onto the quinjet. A redheaded woman and Phil(!!!) helped an injured blonde man down the ramp. May’s breath stilled in her chest. Her eyes strained. His suit was torn. His cheek and the white shirt underneath his tac-suit was stained red, but it couldn’t have been his blood. The doctors wouldn’t have allowed him to help out if he was gravely injured. Right?!

May rushed for the stairs. Before she knew it she was down, through the double doors, and in the hallway outside of the Aviation bay running her hands over Phil’s chest, checking for wounds. He was soaked, and clearly exhausted, but she couldn’t find anything worse than a few scratches. The one on his chest had some depth and had bled freely at one point, but the others were minor.

May could finally breath again, but continued to run her hands over his chest. Just in case.

“Make way!” Her focused examination was broken by a group of doctors rolling another severely injured man away from the Aviation bay. May, Phil, and Skye stepped aside.

“You _should_ go to the med-bay…” Skye began.

“… But it will be overflowing with patients and all I need is a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.” Phil continued.

Skye nodded, adding, “But I don’t think you should be alone, you might drown in the shower.”

Skye turned her head to May and winked. May didn’t think Phil drowning was a particularly joke-worthy circumstance, so she glared in return.

Skye smirked, “I think May should accompany you home and make sure that you get to bed okay.”

Phil nodded tiredly. He was clearly too exhausted to protest, and May saw no issues with Skye’s plan, so she too agreed.

Skye grinned like a fox who had just stolen a dead stoat from one of May’s snares.

May shook her head, dismissing Skye’s odd behavior, and focused her energy on getting Phil home as quickly as possible.


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Meredithchandler73. Finally some Philinda action! ;)

May focused her energy on getting Phil home as quickly as possible. His scratches needed to be cleaned and he was so tired he was stumbling down the hall.

After his second wrong turn, May grabbed his damp arm, wrapped it around her shoulder and wrapped her other arm around his waist. _Now he wouldn’t be able to stumble off the edge of the helicarrier!_

Another way May knew Phil was exhausted is that he wasn’t talking –- well, hopefully that was because he was tired and not because he was upset about her housing situation –- and because he leaned on her. He actually put some of his weight on her, something he wouldn’t have done unless he really needed it, as the safety of their baby was paramount in his mind. Of course Simmons would be the first to tell him that leaning on her wouldn’t do anything to harm his daughter, but that wouldn’t change him any.

Finally, after what felt like an age, they reached his apartment.

After resting Phil up against the wall, May pressed her thumb against the access pad and was surprised and pleased that it opened. On one level it made getting Phil home much easier, and on another, it meant that Phil wanted to share his space with her. At least a little bit.

May propped open the door and led Phil in, towards the bathroom. Once they reached their destination, Phil only stumbling once over a pair of shoes May had unsuccessfully tried to kick away, May sat Phil down on the toilet.

He slumped. May unzipped the remains of his torn –- cut –- tac-suit and peeled it off of his remarkably broad shoulders.

Phil muttered something.

“Hmmm?” asked May, wiping his waterlogged hair out of his eyes.

Phil’s reply was still incomprehensible. May was starting to get worried that perhaps Phil should have gone to the med-bay; he was far more tired than they’d thought. _Oh well, she could always shower with him to make sure he stayed vertical and didn’t drown._

May’s hands dipped down to his waist. She tugged up his sodden and blood-stained undershirt.

He may look soft and well-fed, but underneath that May could feel significant muscle tone. When the shirt was level with the largest scratch, she tugged more carefully trying not to pull at the barely-scabbed wound. As a bit of the shirt was matted into the scratch some pain was inevitable, but she wanted to minimize it.

Phil yowled when she yanked sharply on a few threads that were matted into the scab.

“I’m sorry Phil, but there’s no easy way and this has got to go.”

Phil batted her way and tore the undershirt off in one sharp movement, completely reopening the wound.

The pain cleared his mind -– and eyes -– and when May returned with a cloth-like wipe he stared at her, confused.

“What are you doing here?”

“Skye said I should make sure you didn’t fall asleep in the shower and drown.”

“What?!” Phil sounded appalled.

“You practically fell asleep on the walk here, so it’s not _that_ unlikely.”

A hundred different expressions crossed his face. May wasn’t sure what even a quarter of them were but she had to be mistaken by the half second of what couldn’t be longing.

Phil’s face settled into a bland mask and he replied, “Thank you for your assistance, but I can take it from here.”

“Fine,” May huffed, throwing the wipe at him. The wipe was too light and fell on the floor without reaching Phil. If she weren’t so annoyed, it would have been funny.

May snorted in disgust and turned on her heels, ignoring Phil’s hurt and confused expression. She wanted to stomp all the way home after being so easily dismissed, but she’d promised Skye to look after Phil. So she only stomped to the living room and sat with a huff.

She fumed for a few minutes on Phil’s comfortable couch. She heard the shower turn on. Amelia kicked her and May rubbed her stomach.

_Phil had basically just woken up so perhaps he wasn’t really being so dismissive of her concern and help? Maybe? Maybe._

May was getting kind of hungry. She hadn’t heard any thumping or other sounds of distress and the water was still running, so she decided to risk it.

May pushed off of the comfy couch -– which was getting harder and harder to do –- and waddled to the kitchen. After a bit of searching she found everything she was looking for and got started.

She poured a bit of milk into a small pan and stirred in some cocoa powder and an equal amount of sugar. She heated the mixture on low flame until everything was dissolved and a dark rich brown. She added two large cups of milk –- while stirring -– and smiled as the dark brown swirled into a lighter, lovelier hot cocoa color. She kept heating and stirring until the cocoa began lightly steaming and then turned off the flame -– boiled milk was no good.

May walked over to the bathroom door and knocked, no pounded, until the water shut off.

“I made hot cocoa, and you’ve got to be clean by now. Come on out before the cocoa gets cold!”

May waddled back to the kitchen and poured the cocoa into two mugs and only spilled a little. After wiping up the spill she carried the mugs over to the coffee table by the comfy couch. One mug had a faded Captain America shield on it, clearly Phil’s favorite, and the other was plain dark blue.

May took a sip from the plain mug and was rather pleased at how the cocoa turned out. It was sweet and rich, but not so sweet that it masked the bitter complexities of the chocolate, and coated the tongue with delight.

May paced herself, not wanting to finish her cocoa before Phil joined her.

She had managed to savor 1/3 of the cocoa by the time she heard the bathroom door creak open.

She turned and was rewarded with a lovely view of Phil. He was pink from the tip of his ears to his low-hanging sleep pants, with damp, tousled hair. Her heart ached with longing, and even love. She wished she could see this pink and well-scrubbed Phil every day.

“Here’s your cocoa,” she said instead of something stupid and out of place such as ‘I want to move in with you’.

“Thanks,” he said softly and padded over to her. Even his toes were pink!

Sheepishly he set his first aid kit down on the table. May searched his chest and face and sure enough most of his scratches were bleeding sluggishly.

“Would you mind…?”

“Of course not,” May interrupted, “but first, try the cocoa.”

Phil obliged, and his moan was more than enough to set May’s womb throbbing with need.

After another sip he spoke, “This is really good, May.”

May’s cheeks warmed, “Thanks, I followed your recipe.”

“Mmmm hmmm,” he replied around a mouthful of comfort in liquid form.

They drank in companionable silence.

May wanted this. She wanted this to be her life. She wanted this to be their children’s lives.

May ignored the moisture pooling in her panties. She stopped herself before she could get too worked up and swapped her almost-empty mug for the first aid kit. She tore open a cleaning wipe packet and began gently dabbing at Phil’s scratches.

He hissed.

“Don’t be a big baby,” she chided and continued her work.

She may have been a little over zealous and disinfected all of his scratches, even the ones barely a thumbnail long, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, and who knows what sort of mess he had gotten himself into!

Once his scratches were clean, she moved on to bandaging. Only two of his scratches -– the big one on his chest and the one above his eye -– really needed to be covered, but the one on his chest was long enough it needed three sticky bandages. This gave May plenty of time to study and feel his firm chest. Not that she’d admit that to anyone.

The scratch over his eye was thankfully much smaller, but she couldn’t cover his eye, so the bandage had to be placed perfectly.

“There, all done,” May murmured with satisfaction.

As she leaned back, she caught a curiously soft expression in Phil’s bright blue eyes. _It was too much._

May set the first aid kit down, and gulped the rest of her now-cold cocoa.

“I, uh, have to go now,” May chattered, “I trust you can find your bed okay?”

Phil nodded. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he said sincerely.

May nodded and fled.


	62. Chapter 62

May bolted from the apartment, her emotions a roiling mess of confusion.

What did he want?! She was pretty certain she knew what _she_ wanted but Phil was just baffling. One moment he’d go all stone-like and distant and the next he’d stare at her like a starving man would a feast. It was just too perplexing.

She shook her head. It was just too much.

She should have **talked** to Phil. Get it all out in the open and see how things ended up. But she didn’t.

She tried to tell herself the excuse that Phil was far too tired to have such an important conversation, which was likely the truth, but not her real reason. It wasn’t precisely because she was afraid of what might happen, but it wasn’t exactly not…

She fled through the helicarrier, mostly ignoring the concerned looks she was attracting, battling two wars: one with confusion and doubt, the other with self-recrimination.

She reached the sanctuary of her new room and collapsed onto her bed. It was hardly mid-day, yet she was completely drained. This morning Phil was simply gone, away on some mission that was more important than she was, then he was in life-threatening danger. When it turned out that he’d escaped with only minor injuries, she’d been so relieved, then he rejected her help so dismissively while only minutes later looked at her with longing.

May sighed and rubbed her stomach promising Kaia that she’d work things out with her dad before she arrived.

* * *

It wasn’t until she was woken up by pounding on her door, did May realize she was quite _that_ tired.

She awoke with an over-full bladder, a crick in her neck, and some soreness in her hips. She hadn’t settled a pillow between her legs nor straightened out her back, and was paying for it now. _Ugh._

She hobbled to her door.

It was Maria.

**_Shit!_ **

May had completely forgotten about her first real, non-simulation flight. How on earth could she have forgotten that!!!

“Maria, I am so, so sorry! With everything with Phil, I guess I forgot! How can I ever make it up to you?”

Maria shook her head and stepped around May to enter the apartment.

“It’s fine. Really. They actually cancelled all outgoing non-critical flights because of the incident. I’m here to see how you’re doing.”

May could feel the blood rush back to her extremities, in relief, and her heart stopped racing.

“Oh.”

Maria nodded at the rocking chair, “Can I sit?”

May nodded, and sat on her bed nearby.

“How’s Phil?” Maria asked.

_Confusing, pink, perplexing, delicious, mystifying…_

“Better,” May settled on. “He didn’t fall asleep in the shower, and I cleaned all his cuts and scratches. He should be asleep by now. Whenever now is…”

“Good. How are you?”

_Sore, confused, kind of hollow, perplexed, having to pee really badly…_

“I’m okay…”

Maria raised one eyebrow in interrogation.

May sighed, “I didn’t talk to Phil about it, about anything…”

“That’s okay, really. Phil was dead tired; it wouldn’t have been a fair conversation. You can talk to him tomorrow.”

May nodded, though she still felt like a coward.

“Besides that, how are you feeling?”

May shrugged.

“Skye said you almost amputated her hand while waiting for Phil.”

May nodded.

“Do you want to talk about that?”

May quirked her lips in a semi-smirk.

“Okay, I know you don’t _want_ to talk about it, but I think you should.”

Maria waited a few moments before beginning, “Okay, maybe I should start. Well, _I_ was terrified that Phil had been killed or fatally injured. I was terrified that he would leave you and the munchkin alone –- well never completely alone, you’d always have me and your other friends -– but alone nevertheless. I was terrified that you’d have to move into Phil’s empty apartment and play house with a ghost. And I was terrified that I’d never get to eat Phil’s famous ‘grilled cheese with a kick’ again.”

Maria’s own fears drew May in. She began nodding along.

“I was afraid that he’d die before we could sort things out. That I’d lost him before I really ever had him. That the last thing I’d said to him was something about not liking his apartment,” May confessed.

Maria nodded.

“And I’d miss his chocolate pumpkin muffins,” May added to deflect from her raw feelings.

“Those are good,” Maria agreed with a small smile. “And you will get the chance to sort things out with Phil. It might not get fixed with one conversation, real life doesn’t work that way, but I know you and Phil both want to make this work, so it will.”

May could breath deeply, as if the boulder on her chest shrank with each word Maria spoke. But it didn’t disappear entirely, “I sure hope you’re right.”

“I may not have the best relationship flight-record myself, but I’ve watched many relationship thrive or wither, and the most important thing is talking -– and giving a damn.”

With her emotional uneasiness mostly resolved, May needed to address her physical discomfort, “You’re welcome to stay Maria, and there’s some chocolate in that cabinet, but I really have to go to the restroom now.”

May didn’t stick around to see how Maria would respond, but waddle-raced to the bathroom trying to put as little pressure on her abdomen as possible, thanking Kaia for not being restless right now.

Making it to the toilet without accident and emptying her overfull bladder was almost as big of a relief as seeing Phil was unharmed earlier.

When May exited the bathroom, Maria was in the middle of fixing some snacks: crackers with peanut butter and sliced apples. They weren’t quite Phil’s caliber, but given May’s limited pantry she was quite impressed with Maria, but if only there was some chocolate.

“I thought it’s probably been awhile since you last ate?” Maria broached.

“You thought right,” May responded, grabbing a peanut butter cracker in each hand. They were delicious, and well-seasoned with hunger.

They sat, and snacked, talking about everything except Phil for hours.


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to CrazyMaryT for her unflagging support.

May awoke the next day full of the desire -– no need –- to get it all over with as soon as possible.

She emptied her bladder and completed the sky-people morning cleansing ritual before forcing down a breakfast bar. She paced around her room and did some of Simmons’ mild stretches, waiting. She didn’t want to wake Phil up, but she really wanted this all out in the open too.

After what May hoped was a sufficiently long wait, she fortified herself and set off for Phil’s rooms.

She paused in front of his door. _You need to be a fierce tiger, not a meek rabbit,_ she told herself.

She knocked.

Phil shouted, “Just a minute.”

May adjusted her maternity top over her belly and patted down her hair.

Phil opened the door. The sticky bandage over his eye had begun to peel off a bit at the corners and the bruises that had been red and practically invisible beneath his pink skin the day before were now a vibrant purple.

Phil opened the door wider, silently letting her into his apartment.

His kitchen was an absolute mess, flour everywhere, a puddle of milk or cream on the floor, and large bowls covering almost every square centimeter of the counter space. He had one bowl perched haphazardly over a steaming pot on his stove. Phil must be ‘baking away his feelings,’ as Maria called it.

“Hi,” Phil finally spoke.

“Hi,” May took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

Phil sagged slightly but perceptibly and nodded. He turned off the stove and using his chin gestured toward his couch.

May nodded, remembering yesterday and cleaning his wounds. Her resolve to get this mess straightened out only grew stronger; she had thought it was as strong as it possibly could be, but she was mistaken.

She sat. “We need to talk.”

“You already said that,” Phil joked painfully.

May grimaced. “I want to share my life –- our daughter’s life -– with you, but I can’t do that if you keep running away like a mouse.”

Phil started to talk a few times, but stopped himself. May waited. They need to be able to talk to each other if whatever this was, was going to actually last.

Eventually Phil began, “I’m sorry you thought I was running away from you, and maybe I was, a little, but they really did need me and my expertise on the mission, even before it turned into a massive cluster fuck.”

May nodded. From all the injured it was clear that whatever called Phil away was real, and really important.

“Can I add something?” Phil asked.

May nodded. Both members needed to be able to talk freely, or else the relationship would be out of balance.

“I might have run away physically, but you’ve run away emotionally.”

May started to rebut him, but held her tongue. It _was_ Phil’s turn.

“You’re the one who’d rather raise our daughter in _Intake Housing_ than my apartment that I’ve spent years turning into the best possible home for a family that I’d given up hope would ever exist.” Phil continued, “You’re the one who didn’t confide in me about your troubles in the Guest House.”

“Ancestors! I’m a grown woman. I can handle my issues on my own. I’m not helpless,” May leaned back, leaned away.

“It’s not about needing help, it’s about _asking_ for help.”

“What does that even mean? Especially coming from someone who really needed help yesterday but chased me out of his bathroom!” May shouted.

Amelia showed her agreement by kicking fiercely.

“Oof.” May rubbed her womb.

Phil’s anger vanished instantly, “Are you alright?”

May shooed off his concern, “Fine. It’s just Amelia kicking.”

“Oh. _Ohhh_. Oh.”

A cascade of emotions washed over Phil’s face including confusion, comprehension, and longing, until ending on his dreadful bland mask.

“See, see, see!” May leaned forward, pointing wildly at his face, “See, I’m not the only one who is emotionally distant! I know you were just remembering back to the post-inquest party when you felt her kick, but then you retreated behind your dreadful _mask_!”

Phil’s blank mask settled even more firmly on his face. “I’m sorry you feel that way…”

May snorted, cutting off the rest of his snake-tongued statement.

“I’d hate for the last thing Amelia heard her father say would be such a split-tongued falsehood!”

“What?” Phil sat forward.

“You lie. You think you’re so clever, but you lie.”

“No, what is it you said about Amelia being able to hear our fight?” Phil asked.

“Yeah, that’s what Simmons says. She’s been able to hear for 10 days or maybe a bit more. Basically since you left.”

Though she noticed Phil’s mask had finally slipped and was replaced with astonishment, May was too angry to hesitate to dig the knife in deeper. “So basically Amelia’s only heard _of_ you; I shudder to think what her opinion is of you.”

“It’s not my fault I was called away. I have a job!” Phil’s hands flailed.

“Yeah, a job that _killed_ your father when you were young. I don’t want you to die and leave Amelia like that!”

“Don’t you dare bring up my father! You have no right. I didn’t _ask_ for this!” Phil yelled, fists clenched at his sides.

May couldn’t believe him.

“Like I did? I was checking my snares, minding my own business when _your_ people grabbed _me_. Don’t act like my pregnancy, my existence, is inconveniencing _you_!”

Phil deflated like one of Skye’s balloons.

“You’re right; you’ve had even less of a say in all this than I have. I don’t have the right to demand anymore from you than I already have.”

Phil sounded so broken.

May sagged against the couch. Her small breakfast sat in her stomach like a large rock. She hadn’t planned on so much shouting. She hadn’t planned on breaking Phil. She just wanted to fix things.

After a few minutes of strained silence, May offered a peace token, “I didn’t accept your offer of your apartment because I didn’t want you to have to move into the barracks like Maria. What I really wanted was to share your apartment with you.”

Phil sat in stunned silence, only blinking.

“Oh.”

After a few more minutes of awkward silence, May couldn’t take it any longer. It was Phil’s turn, but the itchy pressure between her shoulder blades was too much.

“Do you want me to fix that for you?” May gestured at the peeling bandage over his eye.

Phil thought for a moment and the nodded, “Yes. Thank you. And thank you for yesterday, I know I didn’t thank you properly.”

May nodded tightly in acceptance and got up to grab the first aid kit from his bathroom.

She cleaned the few scratches that were pink and slightly puffy from infection and re-bandaged the large one over his eye.

“Thank you again. I was so short with you yesterday because I too want to share my apartment with you, share my life with you, but I couldn’t deal with being naked in my shower with you. It was too much like a recurring dream I’ve had… and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything…” Phil petered out.

May nodded somewhat confused by Phil’s admission that he had regularly dreamed of showering with her but she figured she could ask Skye if that was a common Sky-people custom.

“Um, would you like to help me make some chocolate mousse?” Phil offered awkwardly, nodding at the kitchen.

May paused for a moment before shaking her head, “No thank you, I think I need some time to myself.”

“Okay. I understand. Maybe we can talk some more tomorrow? After we’ve calmed down?”

May nodded and saw herself out. They didn’t resolve everything, but at least they made some progress. And she was too wrung dry to do any more right now.


	64. Chapter 64

Time passed painfully slow, like sap oozing from a gashed tree. May napped. She paced. She ate. She stretched. She slept and repeated it all again.

Skye interrupted the monotony, and May eagerly opened the door at her knock. At first May had hoped it was Phil, but his knock was decidedly different and anyways Skye would still be a welcome distraction.

“Hey,” May said, welcoming Skye into her apartment.

“Hey yourself.” Skye sat down before continuing, “Something is definitely wrong with Phil. He brought me chocolate mousse, chili brownies, and basil mozzarella scones!”

May sagged;  _ perhaps Skye’s visit wouldn’t be the diversion she was hoping for. _

She got a hold on herself, and straightened her back. “Yeah, I talked with Phil yesterday morning. It was really bad.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t  _ that _ bad,” Skye opined.

“Oh, it was. I brought up Phil’s dead father.”

“Oh.” Skye’s smile faded. “At least you guys finally talked. Right?”

May struggled not to smile at Skye’s persistent optimism.

“Well, yeah. And we agreed to talk today, once we both had time to cool down and think.”

“Good, good! I really want you two to work out.”

May failed to suppress her smile this time. “Me too.”

Skye chuckled.

They sat in contented silence for a while.

“How are you—”

“—How is Phil?” They asked at the same time.

Skye smiled. May inclined her head, wordlessly suggesting Skye should go first. Skye gestured that May should go, but May shook her head.

Skye gave in. “Phil seems okay. Physically he’s better than he was, but certainly pretty black-and-blue. Emotionally he’s unsettled and maybe thoughtful? He was at least pretty quiet.”

May nodded, replying, “I’m okay, I guess. I really want everything to work out. I want everything to be smooth, but I have no idea how to get there.”

Skye nodded encouragingly.

“I have this dream where all three of us are together, as a family. Phil’s making something, I’m cleaning dishes, and Kaia is playing on the floor between us, but I don’t even know if that is possible anymore.”

“I’m sure it is, don’t give up on your dream yet. You said you guys were going to talk more today? Let him know about your dream. I’m sure he shares it. It won’t be easy, it won’t be smooth –- as you say -– but if you both want it, you’ll get there.”

May nodded. Skye’s comment about Phil’s dreams reminded her. 

“Speaking of dreams…” May hesitated.

“Yeah?”

“Phil mentioned one of his yesterday, but I didn’t really understand it.”

“Yeah?” Skye prompted again.

“He mentioned him and me showering together?”

Skye’s face contorted from mild encouragement to a pained grimace. She started coughing, no, laughing. She laughed and laughed until tears came from her eyes.

May’s concern turned to confusion, which turned into annoyance after maybe two full minutes. She pursed her lips, waiting for Skye to stop laughing at her.

Skye’s laughter waned as she paused to catch her breath. Eventually she took note of May’s annoyance, which stifled the rest of her amusement.

“I’m sorry. I really wasn’t laughing at you. Really.” Skye said gaspingly. “It’s just… I was so surprised  _ Phil  _ would have such thoughts.”

Skye calmed herself further and entered what May thought of as ‘lecture mode’.

“I don’t know how your clan treats public nudity or communal cleansing, but we’re pretty prudish here. Despite, or maybe even because of, the crèche system and barrack-style living situations of most people for a good chunk of their lives, we shower in private, even if that privacy is only maintained by a thin sheet of opaque plastic. But there’s one exception. There’s this pretty common fantasy of showering with… your special someone, and then also…”

Skye turned pink and paused, searching for the best way to phrase things. “And then, while you’re still naked, having sex in the shower.”

“Oh.” May didn’t know what to say, or think. She didn’t know Phil was having those sorts of thought about her. But, then again, she’d been having sexy dreams about him too.

“Yeah. I know Phil’s only human, and man…” Skye made a big show out of ogling May’s gravid body, “You are some catch.”

May batted at Skye, who was laughing uproariously at her own pale joke.

After Skye’s laughter waned, she added, “Things can’t be all bad if he’s telling you about his naughty dreams.”

May wasn’t certain of that, but she inclined her head. If the sky-people were really as prudish as Skye claimed,  _ maybe _ she was right. 

“How is Trip?” May asked to turn the conversation. She’d talked on this topic enough for one day and still had an important conversation with Phil to look forward to. 

Skye caught May up on her life and they chatted pleasantly until Phil knocked.

May recognized his knock instantly, shooting Skye a panicked look. Skye squeezed her hand comfortingly and opened the door.

May could see Phil do a double-take.

Skye laughed. “Don’t worry, I was just about to leave.”

Skye and May shared a look at Phil’s awkwardness. Skye practically turned purple trying not to laugh at Phil. May shooed her out.

Phil stood at the doorway, his shoulders tight and his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Come on in and sit down,” May greeted. “We were just talking about Trip and how ticklish he is.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

Phil nodded and slowly walked over, hands still in his pockets.

The hairs on the back of May’s neck prickled with the awkwardness. She cleared her throat, trying to appear natural.

“So, how are you?” She asked.

Phil paced, still unable to sit. May gave him is time.

“You’re right. I am distancing myself from you emotionally. I’ve fallen so hard for you I’m going to be crushed when you return to your home. But I can’t live my life in fear of what will happen in five years.”

Phil got down on one knee and pulled a small black box from his pocket.

May was quite confused.

“May, will you marry me?”


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Phil proposes.

“May, will you marry me?”

May was still quite confused. She asked, “Marry?”

Phil earnest yearning crumpled and was replaced with self-annoyance. He rubbed his hand all over his face and stood up from his awkward position.

“Right, it’s one of our traditions. It means I love you and I want to live with you and raise our children together for as long as you’re willing to have me. This gold ring--” Phil opened the box, “--was my mother’s. My parents were happily married and I believe we can be too.”

“What does this mean?”

“Well, you are more than just the mother of my children to me and I want everyone to know that. I want you to move in with me. You can still leave when our second child is old enough -– I won’t stop you, you have your own life and I’ve no right to stop you. But I want to spend as much time as I can with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

May took the ring from the box, “This little circle says all that?”

Phil nodded. “What do you say?”

“I need to think.”

Phil nodded.

May sat down leadenly, staring at the ring, thinking.

Phil held himself taut.

The baby started kicking, expressing her displeasure with the tense silence.

May rubbed her belly in an attempt to soothe her.

Phil smiled a silly little smile and got down on both knees in front of May.

He began addressing her stomach, “Amelia, I promise to love you no matter what. I promise to love your mother for as long as she’ll have me, in whatever manner she’ll have me. I promise to focus on the present, and make the most of whatever time we have. Whatever will happen, will happen. And no matter what I will love you with my whole heart.”

May could feel the tears pool up. She blinked and instantly they were flowing unchecked. She rubbed at her cheeks, trying to brush the tears off, and then she sniffled.

Phil looked up in alarm.

“It’s just the stupid hormones,” May said thickly.

Phil stood up a little stiffly and wordlessly offered a hug. May nodded her acceptance.

It was clumsy, between May’s bulk, Phil’s bruises, and the fact that he was standing and she was sitting, but finally they found a comfortable situation. May cried into the nook between his neck and shoulder, unburdening herself of months of tension and bottled emotions. As he rubbed her back and murmured soothing platitudes May felt that everything would be all right. She knew everything wasn’t going to be solved with a golden ring and a hug, but at least they were on the right path. A path forward.

“Okay,” May said, pulling away from Phil’s shoulder.

“Okay?” Phil asked, his face glowing with pleasure.

“Yes.”

May hadn’t thought Phil’s smile could grow any wider, but she was wrong.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now you move in with me. We’ve got to baby-proof the whole apartment and set up the nursery and…” Phil’s excited rambling halted. “Do you want your own room? Or share with me? Or the baby?”

May thought for a moment. Simmons had recommended sleeping in the same room as the baby for at least the first 3 months.

“With the baby. For now,” she answered.

Phil nodded and continued his rambling, “I wonder how much of my cooking equipment I need to pack away or at least put on the highest shelves…”

Phil spouted on about storage for baby stuff and safety monitoring. May just sat and smiled. Her crying fit left her feeling drained and tired, but she also liked listening to Phil’s voice, it was quite soothing.

* * *

She woke up sprawled on the couch, the comforter from her bed tucked around her. Damn she must have fallen asleep while Phil enthusiastically planned their future together.

She scrambled upright –- or at least pushed herself upright as quickly as she could. She sighed in relief when she spotted the ring box on her eating table. Phil couldn’t have been too upset at her for falling asleep on him if he left the ring, right?

After taking care of certain necessities like emptying her bladder and filling her stomach, she set off to find Phil and apologize.

She stopped, her hand on her door. Her clothes were sweaty and wrinkly from sleeping in them. She turned back and changed into new ones.

Before she wouldn’t have noticed or care, but now she didn’t want to face Phil smelling sour and looking rumpled. She acknowledged it was silly since they’d be living in the same apartment soon, but everything was still so new.

After neatening herself up, May set off to actually find Phil.

Phil wasn’t in his office, but her comfy chair and a new children’s book were. May closed the office door and remembered back to eight weeks ago, before they knew they had feelings for one another and things were simple, uncomplicated, and rarely awkward. She shook her head, forward movement only.

She knocked on Phil’s apartment door -– despite having access, it was just polite.

Maria opened the door.

May was startled, but not as startled as when Maria threw her arms around May and exulted.

“Oh May, my sister! How happy I am for you!”

It took May a few moments to shake off her surprise, but when she did, she returned Maria’s hug hungrily.

As Maria abashedly let go of May, she was able to take in the shambles that was Phil’s apartment. Furniture was moved, items were piled all over, and Phil was standing by his collection of Captain America stuff holding a hand-sized model of his hero.

“What’s going on?” May asked, forgetting her original goal of begging for forgiveness.

“We’re child-proofing,” Maria replied wryly.

Phil shrugged bashfully behind her.

“We have three months left!”

“Yeah, I know,” Phil replied sheepishly. “But what if she comes early? I don’t want her to choke on the captain’s shield.”

“Even if she comes early, we’ll have time before she starts to crawl around on her own.” May just shook her head. Then she remembered her purpose in being here. “Oh Phil! I’m so sorry I fell asleep on you. I don’t know what happened.”

It was Phil’s turn to smile at his partner. “That’s okay. You’re growing a human being! That’s more important than trying to decide whether or not we have room for both sets of cookware.”

May didn’t hold back her sigh of relief.

“I was worried at first, and called Jemma, but she said it was completely normal at this stage of your pregnancy,” Phil continued.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Phil said with a little smile. “So I decided to get the place prepared, for whenever you’re ready to move in.”

May and Maria shared a look expressing fondness with a touch of exasperation.

Phil set down the toy -– no, not a toy, never a toy, a collectable -– and moved toward the kitchen.

“Are you hungry? I have some of that chocolate mousse.”

May’s future flashed before her: Phil stuffing her to the gills with so much delicious food she couldn’t walk, pregnant or no. It was a future she could live with.


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long guys. RL has been crazy, but things will hopefully settle down soon. Right?

The chocolate mousse was amazing –- just as May remembered –- and simply sitting there, basking in the companionship of Phil and Maria soothed the remnants of anxiety she’d felt when she realized she had fallen asleep while Phil was talking.

Maria mentioned that she’d managed to reschedule May’s first real flight in two days, if May still felt up to it.

May insisted that of course she would be up to it. Phil stared at his half-eaten mousse, intent on not interfering.

Maria nodded at May’s response and changed the topic to wedding plans.

May was utterly unfamiliar with the sky-people’s wedding traditions but listened eagerly as Phil and Maria talked over each other attempting to explain them.

There was an official of captain’s rank or higher who was in charge of reading all of the sky-people’s rules and filling out their beloved paperwork. Phil tentatively suggested that Maria could hold this position. May didn’t know exactly what that meant but of course she wanted Maria to be there and hold as important of a position in the wedding as in real life.

She nodded.

In addition to the official, the friends and family of the bride and groom were involved –- similar to her clan’s traditions -– but paramount were the best man and the maid of honor. They were the couple’s best friends, or sometimes siblings.

May joked that it was good thing Maria was already otherwise occupied, or else they would have to fight over who got her. Phil and Maria laughed, but May could see Maria turned a bit pink at the joke. Since Maria _was_ taken, May would ask Skye to be her ‘maid of honor.’

As Phil transitioned to talking about the importance of the wedding cake, May reflected on the similarities and differences between his traditions and her clan’s. Her clan’s marriage traditions tended to be simpler, except if the groom was from another clan. The bride would wear a new dress dyed red with ochre, or at least a red shawl or sash, to indicate fertility. The new couple would bow four times: to the gods, the ancestors, both sets of parents, and finally each other. Then there would be a feast, as elaborate as the two families or two clans could afford, and it always included the bride brewing and serving tea to her new spouse’s parents.

Apparently white was the sky-people’s wedding color and the respective parents –- if they were still around -– played a minimal role, except for giving the new couple large gifts. Typically they were family heirlooms or at least something they would need in their new, joined lives.

After the others finished their mousse, they returned to their vastly premature baby-proofing of Phil’s -– no, soon _their_ –- apartment. A bone-deep languor over took May and she neither offered to help nor made any motion towards leaving. Her languor stemmed more from perfect contentment than exhaustion.

She rubbed her stomach, the faint remnants of the mousse on her tongue as she listened to Phil and Maria bicker over how to organize the bookshelves.

* * *

She woke to Phil’s amused face.

“Amelia must be putting on quite a growth spurt,” Phil joked.

May hesitated before correcting him, they _were_ trying to be more emotionally honest, “Actually, I think it’s because I feel happy, safe in your presence.”

Phil turned a delightful shade of pink.

He stammered a bit before forcing out, “I’m pleased to hear that. Um, are you hungry?”

May took a moment to self-assess.

“I could eat. But I need to use the bathroom first.”

Phil nodded, “Okay. Let’s see what I can whip up.”

May threaded her way to the bathroom around hills of boxes and piled _stuff_. She wasn’t quite sure why Phil needed three round stiff net-type things with handles, or what danger they posed to Kaia, but she shrugged. Sometimes Phil, and sky-people in general, were unfathomable.

When she returned from the bathroom Phil had made some creamy bean-based dip and cut veggies and was working on some cheesy sandwiches.

May grabbed a carrot stick and scooped up some of the dip. It was nice, very garlicky though. It had taken her some time to get used to that particular flavor, but now that she had, she enjoyed it.

She grabbed a zucchini spear and continued to munch, watching Phil carefully flip the sandwiches on his cooktop. Melted cheese oozed from the sides and her mouth watered. Kaia agreed.

Phil smiled over his shoulder. “There should be some fizzy lemonade in the cold-box if you want some.”

May was thirsty, and grabbed the large, cold bottle. Two glasses “miraculously” appeared on the countertop, and May took the hint, pouring some for Phil as well.

Phil smiled his thanks, having removed the sandwiches from the heat and was cutting them into triangles. “This one is spicy and the other one isn’t,” he said gesturing at the two sandwiches.

May grabbed the mild one, Kaia had a tendency to kick more after spicy meals, and with her nap, she would have a hard enough time getting to sleep.

The sandwich, which Phil called a grilled cheese, was just as warm and delicious as its golden brown and cheesy exterior suggested.

When she finished the first half, Phil pushed the plate of veggies toward her. She smiled slightly at his unsubtle attempt, but humored him by grabbing a couple more carrot sticks.

Conversation was light. Mostly, Phil asked what she had gotten up to while he was away and May shared a few of the lighter tales such as Skye’s movie night and the amazing ice cream sundaes.

After dinner, May helped Phil clean up. Even while washing dishes, her heart was full and she felt safe and content.

When they’d finished, as Phil was drying his hands, he interjected, “Wanna see the baby’s room?”

May nodded.

Phil practically skipped, leading the way to a part of the apartment she hadn’t been to in her visits. This room was past the kitchen and basically on the other side of the living room from Phil’s bedroom.

It was more than a mess, but it was perfect –- or it would be. There was a small desk along one wall, with Captain America posters above. On the opposite wall was a shelving unit with glass doors filled with carefully arrayed memorabilia. On the floor were markings suggesting that it had had a twin next to it until recently.

“So I’ll move all of the junk and the cabinet out of here as soon as I sort out the rest of the apartment and the desk can go back to the commissary. It’ll be a little tight but I’ve measured and the crib, a bed for you, and a changing table/wardrobe will all fit. I’ll also empty the linen closet in the hall, and your or the baby’s extra stuff could go there…”

May knew Phil would just keep rambling unless she did something, so she leaned up kissed his cheek. Phil turned gratifyingly pink.

“Is it okay?”

“It’s great.”


	67. Chapter 67

May’s first real flight was disappointingly easy. The sky was calm with a minor tailwind and not a cross breeze to speak of. The only semi-exciting thing was taking off from helicarrier itself. It’s wasn’t technically challenging -– she’d practiced it in simulations under far more difficult conditions, but this time it was _real_. This time she really was leaving her unsolicited home behind her. This time she was really leaving _Phil_ behind her.

Once she had made the adjustments to settle into their designated cruising altitude May _mostly_ pushed such thoughts to the back of her mind. Yes, this was the first time in more than three seasons that she hadn’t been surrounded by the bulk and noise of the helicarrier. Yes, this was the first time in almost a year she was practically alone, naught but the thin shell of the quinjet separating her from the sun and sky and naught but Maria’s calm breathing to accompany her.

But instead of focusing on that, she focused on the dials and knobs of her diagnostics. Everything was in the green but it only took a moment’s inattention for bad to become worse.

And if she thought about the other thing, well then she might divert the quinjet off course to go see her mother and tell her she was still alive. Of course the quinjet only had a ¼ tank -– enough for their planned 30 minutes out and back virgin flight plus a margin for safety, but not near enough to go halfway around the world to her homeland, a place the sky-people called China.

The sky-people weren’t fools and May knew she couldn’t escape even if she truly wanted to. Which she didn’t.

May lost herself in the minutiae of flying -– monitoring gauges and vectors –- and the endless blue sky until Maria brought her back to full awareness, “May, it’s time for us to turn around.”

May checked the tach timer and nodded, “Right.”

She banked left slowly, gradually altering course back to the helicarrier –- or rather where the helicarrier was expected to be in 30 minutes.

Once May had settled into her new heading, Maria spoke up again, “How are you doing?”

May glanced at all of her diagnostics, “Good. Smooth flying.”

Maria snorted. “I don’t mean the flight: This is a cakewalk, you could fly under these conditions in your sleep. I mean: How are you doing with Phil? Any second thoughts about moving in with him or the wedding?”

May tweaked her heading by a degree while she thought.

“I’m asking as your friend, not Phil’s,” Maria added after several minutes of silence.

May nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on her flight instruments. “I’m still not certain as to what the wedding is, except for a party with lots of sky-people paperwork.”

Maria started to interject, May raised her hand to stop her.

“And I’m uncertain about marriage itself, as we’re already having a child together, but I know want to live with Phil. I want to raise Kaia with him. I want to see him what he looks like all rumpled and groggy in the morning. I want to be the first one to taste his food experiments –- the good and the bad. I want to share Kaia’s firsts with him. But the marriage…”

May shrugged and stole a glance at Maria. She was nodding with the ghost of a smile on her face.

After a few minutes Maria broke the silence, “Can I speak now?”

May nodded.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” Maria said joyously. “You both deserve it so much.”

“Now if you don’t want the wedding, I’m certain Phil would be fine with skipping it and just have you move in, if you want, but it’s really just a ceremony to commit to one another. It’s really just a way to formally tell everyone you care about that you want to share your lives –- the good and the bad.”

May nodded. “I do want to do that. If telling everyone is important to Phil then I want to tell everyone too.”

“Good,” Maria replied, “I’ve looked into what being a wedding official entails, and it looks fun.”

May snorted at Maria’s attempt at humor and turned her attention back to her flight instruments. The weather conditions were as benign as they could be but still attempting to rendezvous with a moving target required some thought and calculation.

The two women flew in silence for maybe ten minutes before Maria spoke again, “And everything else? Is everything else good? Have you decided on a name for the baby yet?”

May got a mischievous idea.

“Everything is fine. I’m tired almost all the time. My legs cramp up randomly, and little Maria loves to kick my bladder when I’m trying to nap. But all of that is normal for the beginning of the last trimester, according to Jemma.”

“Little Maria?” Maria asked, “Is that what you’ve decided to name her?”

From Maria’s face and tone of voice, May could tell Maria was pleased, but also confused.

May chuckled, “No. We still haven’t decided between Amelia and Kaia, but man, your face!”

May took a peek. Maria’s lips were pursed, attempting to look disapproving, but her eyes glittered with amusement.

May laughed harder.

After maybe a minute, Maria’s resolve dissolved and she joined May in laughing at herself.

“Now that was a good prank, you almost had me,” Maria admitted.

That only made May laugh harder. May laughed so hard she almost wet herself. It had been a long time since May had laughed so hard. It was good.

When May finally pulled herself together and stopped laughing she was slightly off course. She adjusted her heading to compensate and then called the helicarrier’s flight control to let them know her ETA since they were getting close.

Maybe it was for the best that May’s first real flight was disappointingly easy.


	68. Chapter 68

Time passed in a blur. May continued to get bigger and bigger. Jemma said that growing a centimeter a week was normal at this point, but goodness, May felt like an ox, or maybe even an elephant, as massive as she was.

Phil claimed he couldn’t tell, that she looked simply radiant. Maria said he was lying, but that he intended it as a nice lie. She said that radiant was what you were supposed to call pregnant women, according to the old shows.

May let Phil keep his nice lie.

Skye invited herself over for another Girl’s Night with ice cream and crowed with joy when May asked her to be her maid of honor.

“I told you that things weren’t as bad as you thought they were!” Skye had said, brimming with self-satisfaction, after, of course, she said yes.

The original movie plans were discarded and Skye asked about everything from wedding plans -– colors, themes, legal stipulations -– to far more… personal topics –- whether she and Phil had had sex yet, whether she could even have pregnant sex, and if so how.

Initially May felt far too uncomfortable to discuss such personal topics, but Skye was so good-natured and happy for her she eventually gave in. All the fudge sauce on the ice cream could also be partly to blame.

Of course growing up May had been no stranger to adult couplings but she had also never discussed them in such detail, not even with Weiyin.

May went on another real flight with Maria. This time the conditions were a little bit more challenging, but still rather easy, considering. In fact, the hardest parts of the flight weren’t related to the actual flying at all: It took a good 15 minutes to adjust the pilot’s seat to accommodate her stomach but still allow her to reach everything she needed to reach. She had thought she’d gotten it right after 5 minutes, but then her stomach kept bumping the outboard flaps when she reached for dials further away. Maria said that they should probably pause the rest of her flight training until after she gave birth. The other challenge was of course, her bladder. The less that was said about trying to use that the tiny, hole-in-the wall toilet, the better.

Before May knew it, a month had passed since she had accepted Phil’s marriage proposal, and it was the day of her bachelorette party. Skye, in her role as maid of honor had been in charge of it. May was a little concerned, given Skye’s party ideas right after the inquest –- a party on the flight deck?! –- but there wasn’t much she could do about it now.

* * *

May rubbed the sleep from her eyes -– she had purposefully taken a nap before the party in the hopes that it would lessen the chances of her randomly falling asleep during it. The party was supposed to start at 3 in the afternoon and only Skye knew how late it was going to go.

In the past month, May had fallen asleep at the drop of the hat. She had fallen asleep while hanging out with Phil in his office while trying to read a book. She had fallen asleep when Skye had left for five minutes to grab some more snacks. Luckily she hadn’t fallen asleep (again) while Phil talked to her about wedding things or while flying.

Jemma kept telling her that it was normal, that growing and lugging around a human being took a lot of energy, but May had never noticed such a liability with the pregnant women of the clan.

May emptied her bladder and put on the all-black maternity outfit that fit her best this week. May was supposed to wear something comfortable and loose fitting, not that she had many clothes (that still fit) that didn’t match that description. Gone were the days that stretchy clothes could adjust to her stomach, now-a-days her tops and even pants had special maternity panels.

She smoothed down her hair. She debated grabbing a snack but decided against it. Food was an essential part of Sky-people ceremonies and there was bound to be something tastier than a meal-replacement bar at her bachelorette party, whether it was better for her was another thing entirely.

May did some gentle, Jemma-approved stretches while waiting for Skye to come for her. She didn’t want to fall asleep again, and if she just waited on the couch that’s what would happen.

May had only gotten halfway through the 15-minute exercise plan when Skye knocked her distinctive knock. Good.

When May opened the door she was surprised to see not only the expected Skye and Maria, but also Jemma and a red-headed woman introduced as Natasha, partner of Clint, Phil’s best man and friend from work.

“Are you ready?” Skye asked.

May nodded.

“Great, come on!”

Skye led the small group through the Helicarrier, shifting a presumably heavily duffle bag from shoulder to shoulder occasionally. After a ten-minute walk and an elevator ride, they reached their destination.

May knew, not because the destination looked any different from the many, many grey doors they had walked past, but because Skye triumphantly announced “Ta-da!”

May reached for the pass-pad but stopped short when Skye said, “Wait, we aren’t ready yet.”

She dug through her duffle bag handing Jemma and Natasha bright pink and silvery-white conical hats. She handed May a matching sash. It read “Bride” in bright pink letters on the silvery-white background with bright pink ruffles on either edge. _There was no way she was going to put that on!_

Maria and Skye each got matching sashes that read “Best Friend of the Bride” and even Maria donned hers without protest. _Well, if Maria was going wear it…_

Reluctantly May put her sash on and hoped no one on the other side of the door would laugh at her for it.

Once Skye saw everyone had put on their matching items, she opened the door.

In the middle of the seemingly normal storage bay, sat two women, several buckets of steaming water, and a vast array of things May had never seen before.

Now Jemma, on the other hand, was familiar with the odd set-up, exclaiming, “Daisy’s Magical, Mysterious, Moving Spa! How did you get her to agree to come out of hiding?”

“Let’s just say Daisy owes me some favors,” Skye replied.

Whatever a “spa” was, Jemma wasn’t the only one who seemed excited. Maria was smiling and Natasha was quickly taking off her shoes.

“Bride first,” Skye announced.

May was actually hoping she’d get to observe someone go through this spa thing first, but she waddled over to one of the two chairs Skye was pointing at and started taking off her shoes. It wasn’t easy, and the woman who’d been waiting helped her.

The woman introduced herself as Rose and instructed May to put her feet in the steaming bucket. It felt quite nice, hot but not too hot, and it smelled like roses.

Natasha beat everyone else to the second chair and they made polite conversation while Skye, Maria, and Jemma shared a bottle of something brown and alcoholic. It turned out that both Natasha and Clint had been working with Phil for almost ten years. They made a great team that was well known even on other Helicarriers for their ability to deal with strange things.

May liked this woman and even started to feel a little bad that she had broken up the team when she arrived and Phil decided to step away from fieldwork. But just a little.

After their feet had been soaking in the hot water for maybe ten minutes, Rose and Lily (May started to suspect that these were not their real names) moved the hot water to other chairs –- which were promptly filled with Jemma and Maria –- and began rubbing their feet with a stone.

May gave Rose an odd look, to which she replied, “It removes the dead skin and makes your skin smooth.”

May shrugged. The Sky-people had their odd rituals.

After a minute or two Lily and Natasha moved on to toenail clipping, but Rose kept sanding May’s feet. It even started to hurt a little bit.

May looked over at Skye. Skye brought her a bottle of chocolate milk and told Rose, “You don’t need to remove her callouses,” whatever that meant.

The rest of the “spa” was nice. Rose clipped her toenails, rubbed some nice lotion into her feet and calves, and painted her toenails. May would have preferred her nails not be a bright pink that matched her sash, but at least everyone ended up with the same color.

Rose and Lily moved on to Jemma and Maria while May’s and Natasha’s nails dried.

“You’re not going get treated?” Jemma asked Skye when Rose put the water buckets away.

“Nope,” Skye replied almost flippantly. “It’s okay. My nails already match.”

She took off her shoes and it was true, her toenails did already match her sash.

It was nice, just hanging out and talking about everything and nothing while their nails dried, and May didn’t even fall asleep.

When Rose announced Maria’s nails were dry enough, Skye pulled some bright pink shoe-like things out of her bag.

She called them flip-flops and insisted everyone put them on before the next event of the evening.

May felt a little silly wearing such flimsy footwear, but how else would everyone see her new painted nails, she supposed.


	69. Chapter 69

From the spa, Skye led the group through the helicarrier to the observation deck.

With another “Ta-da!” Skye threw open the door. The room was decorated with enormous pink cocks, pink streamers, and a giant banner that read “GET SOME!” There were also tables laden with food. From the hallway May saw chips and dip, veggies and dip, a cheese and cracker platter, and cupcakes with pink frosting.

Victoria Hand and Isabelle Hartley were already there, standing awkwardly in the corner. They held hats identical to Jemma and Natasha’s. While Skye headed over to chide them for not wearing their hats, May made a beeline for the cheese platter.

She was surprised to see that some of the softer cheeses were shaped into small cocks and the cupcakes were not only decorated with pink frosting, but carefully shaped layers of pink frosting to look like vulvas. _Sky-people, or perhaps just Skye, certainly were obsessed with reproductive organs. Maybe it was the fact that they couldn’t have children on their own._

May filled her small pink plate with cheese and crackers, and then added some veggies because she knew Phil would want her to. Then she wandered over to the cluster of her friends. While she had been grazing, Peggy Carter had arrived.

Apparently Jemma knew of Peggy -– they did have a similar way of speaking so maybe they came from the same helicarrier –- and was talking over Peggy in a puppy-like attempt at interrogation.

In order to save Jemma from herself, May interrupted to ask if it was safe for her to eat this piece of Gorgonzola. Jemma went off on a five-minute lecture that boiled down to ‘yes, in this case’ and Peggy gave her a grateful smile before making her own assault on the food spread.

As Jemma was wrapping up her lecture on the history of bacteria in soft cheeses and their risks to pregnant women, Skye came over, holding a truly enormous pink cock. It had to be 20 centimeters long and 5 centimeters wide.

Skye put the cock in her mouth and sucked. Only half fit and the rest stuck out in an obscene manner. _Sky-men’s penises couldn’t possibly be that large, could they?_

“Wow,” May said, almost involuntarily.

Jemma nodded sagely, “Anatomically incorrect genitalia are a traditional aspect of Hen nights.” _Well, that answered that question._

Skye smiled good-naturedly, “Yes, and I’m nothing if not traditional. Would either of you like one? They’re cherry-flavored.”

May shook her head, as did Jemma.

Skye shrugged and sucked on the popsicle again.

“Oh, I almost forgot. We had a question for you Jemma.”

May was confused for a moment, and then, when she remembered what Skye was talking about, she wanted to disappear.

Jemma, poor oblivious Jemma, just hummed inquiringly.

“Can May have sex with Phil?”

Yep. May really wished she could disappear right about now.

Jemma approached Skye’s question as she did all questions, with a wealth of knowledge and a dearth of common sense. “Now, I haven’t dealt with this particular situation before, having worked exclusively with Guest House mothers, but I did extensive research on this eventuality after the inquest. At this point standard missionary position is out, but other positions such as cowgirl, doggie style with pillows, or even against a wall or in a chair can work up through the end of your pregnancy, May. As long as you’re comfortable and don’t put pressure on your stomach, you’re good to go.”

May didn’t understand half of what Jemma was saying but certainly wasn’t going to ask for clarification. She was embarrassed to think that Jemma had been thinking about her having sex with Phil for more than a month!

Skye grinned at May like a fox grinning at his dinner-to-be. May glared and stuffed her mouth with cheese so she wouldn’t have to respond.

“Now after you give birth is a different story. You’ll have to wait several weeks until everything has healed up.” Jemma explained the kinds of discomfort that were normal and fixable, which meant they should stop, and which meant they should see her immediately.

Jemma concluded her lecture and left to grab some food.

“I hate you,” May hissed as she left to go to the restroom.

“No you don’t, you’re just embarrassed. You’ll thank me later,” Skye shouted at her back.

When May returned from the restroom, she grabbed a pink fizzy lemonade and caught up with Peggy.

They commiserated over May’s dull flights and how her growing stomach had benched her. Peggy reassured her that she was a natural and after her daughter was born she’d be right back at it.

Victoria and Isabelle made their way over to congratulate her. They had been making small talk for a few minutes when there was a commotion.

May turned to the door to see Phil, Fitz, Trip, and a blond stranger enter. May was irked to notice that _they_ weren’t forced to wear matching hats and sashes.

“Time for stage three!” Skye announced gleefully.

At first, stage three seemed to be letting the new arrivals grab some food and chat with their friends, but then Skye and Maria started setting up chairs.

“Okay everybody, time to get settled!” Skye shouted.

May tried to take a seat in the back, but of course Skye stopped her and re-directed her to the front. There were two chairs facing the others and Phil, pink-faced, was already sitting in one of them.

May sat and waited. It took some wrangling but eventually everyone was seated with their snack plates and drink cups.

Skye presented May and Phil two large bowls, where she had gotten them from, May couldn’t begin to guess. Her bowl was unsurprisingly the same bright pink as her sash lettering and toenails. Phil’s bowl was a rich blue color. Inside her bowl was a mound of chocolates. They were conical, like the hats, with white tips.

“Welcome to ‘How well do Philinda know each other!’” Skye began. “Each of the contestants will be asked questions about the other. If they get the question right, they’ll get one of the other’s chocolates. If they get it wrong, they’ll have to forfeit one of their own. And of course, there is an audience participation aspect too.”

Skye was interrupted by loud whooping from Trip, Fitz, and Jemma. May suspected they had had quite a bit of the alcoholic pink drink.

After they settled down Skye continued, “Now this first round is a practice round so our lovely contestants can get a feel for things, and I expect the audience will be quiet.” This was directed at Trip, Fitz, and Jemma.

“Now, Phil, what is May’s favorite color?”

May heard Jemma scoff but a sharp look from Skye kept things under control.

“Blue,” Phil answered.

Skye (unnecessarily) turned to May. “Yes, blue,” May said.

“Now if this was a real game, you would give Phil one of your boobs.” _Ahhh that’s what her chocolates were supposed to be._

“Now, May, what is Phil’s favorite color?”

“Blue, too.”

Skye turned to Phil.

“Nope,” he said.

May wrinkled her forehead. She was certain he had told her his favorite color was blue.

“It’s stormy-sky grey-blue,” Phil said with a teasing twinkle in his eye.

The audience booed.

“That doesn’t count. You would have to give May one of your penises.”

May stuck her tongue out at Phil and the audience laughed.

“Everyone ready for the game to begin?”

May and Phil nodded. Their friends cheered.

“Phil, what is May’s favorite food?”

After less than a heartbeat he replied, “Anything chocolate?”

May handed him her bowl, “Close enough. Your chocolate mousse.”

The audience awwwed. May suspected Isabelle started it.

Phil popped the chocolate breast into his mouth.

“May, what is Phil’s favorite food?”

After considering beef steak, cheesy rice balls, and ‘whatever he comes up with next’ May said, “Hot chocolate?”

Skye turned to Phil. He shook his head.

“Audience?” Skye asked.

Maria’s hand shot into the air.

“Maria?” Skye called.

“His mom’s mac and cheese.”

Phil nodded and tossed her a chocolate penis. He turned to May, “You were pretty close. I love hot chocolate but it’s not really a food.”

“Why haven’t you made me mac and cheese?”

Phil shrugged, “I can never get it to be as good as my mom’s, and it’s not that healthy.”

May nodded.

“Round two: Phil, if today were the last day before the end of the world, how would May spend it?”

Phil thought a moment and May thought too.

“Flying?” Phil suggested.

May shook her head.

“Audience?”

“Sex!” shouted Jemma.

May shook her head.

“Eating chocolate?” suggested Fitz.

The audience laughed and May shook her head again.

“Returning to her family,” said Victoria after everyone else had suggested something, some more ridiculous than others.

May nodded. The crowd grew quiet.

May turned to Phil, “If I only had one day left, I’d like to tell my mother about you, and Amelia.”

After a moment of quiet Skye shuffled her paper and asked, “May, if Phil’s apartment caught fire, what is one non-living thing would he grab before leaving?”

May knew it would have to be some piece of Captain America memorabilia, but which one?

“The Captain America shield above his bed?”

The audience laughed and Phil nodded. “You better believe it!”

They went through least favorite foods, kale-infused brownies and cauliflower respectively; favorite animals, tiger and [Shikra](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shikra); and first kiss -– their friends couldn’t stop awwwing over the fact that May’s first kiss was Phil, in his office.

Of course that was nothing compared to the audience’s reaction to Phil’s answer to the first time he knew May was “the one.”

Of course no one could have expected that his feelings started so early: after May destroyed the security camera and stood ready to face the consequences, before she was even pregnant. May herself was astonished.

May’s own answer of during their cooking lessons when he took care of her thumb seemed tame in comparison, but Phil turned pink and the audience cheered, though not quite as long as for Phil’s confession.

The game went on for maybe an hour. The rest of the questions ranged from general knowledge: favorite superpower, phobias, and favorite flower to more awww-inducing: what is your partner’s idea of the best way to spend a day, how would your partner describe you in one word, and what do you think is the one thing that your partner likes best about you?

Eventually Phil ran out of chocolates and Skye declared May the winner with three chocolates left, mostly because she stumped even the audience with some of her questions.

At the end of the game, most of the audience left, staggering and louder than normal. May went to sift among the dregs of the food. Since Phil was here, she added about the same amount of veggies as cheese to her plate. While she was considering the remaining bits of chips, Skye came over. She had just finished putting away the chairs.

“Thank you Skye,” May said, turning and hugging the girl. “This was a wonderful party.”

Skye shrugged and turned a little pink, not nearly as pink as Phil could turn. “It wasn’t much...”

“Oh it was,” Phil interrupted. “It will go down in the books as the best pre-wedding party ever! Even though I wasn’t invited to the nail painting portion.”  

Phil nodded at May’s pink toes. May ducked her head, having forgotten about her practically bare feet during the game.

Skye just laughed, “Oh, A.C.!”


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, the last thing I was expecting was a 4 month hiatus, but I psyched myself out of being able to write a wedding scene/adequate climax and then work got crazy.
> 
> So, in short, sorry for the delay and on with the show!

Two days passed between the bachelorette party and the day of the wedding. One day, Skye said, was to recover from the bachelor and bachelorette parties and the other was for the wedding rehearsal. May thought it said a lot about the Sky-people that their weddings were so complicated you had to have a practice wedding!

It actually turned out not really to be a practice wedding. Sure there was some practicing where to stand and when to enter and say what. But there was also a lot of legal stuff too, which May should have expected.

Felix Blake, from the custody paperwork, came and talked them through contract amendments, which was nerve-wracking and exhausting. Thankfully Phil held her hand throughout the process, and squeezed her hand with a sympathetic smile during the paternal death amendment discussions.

May got this squirmy sick feeling in her stomach when Blake talked about her leaving Phil when her second child was two years old. She still wanted to go home, still wanted see her mother and friends. And Phil seemed fine, or well not fine, but he at least seemed to accept the original end date. But it also seemed so wrong, heartless and impersonal, to plan this abandonment so precisely.

Thankfully, as soon as the legal discussions were over, it was time for the rehearsal dinner. According to Skye this was _another_ traditional party, though smaller and more refined. It was just Skye, Maria, May, Phil, and Phil’s Best Man Clint. Phil made the dinner, of course, and it was a reprise of the first meal he had made May with steak, baby potatoes, garlicky greens, and chocolate mousse parfaits for dessert.

May gave in to her urge to kiss Phil for such a romantic and delicious meal, an act that was greeted with a round of applause by the others. May enjoyed getting to know Clint. He was a crack-up and had the group howling with his stories of Phil in the field. His story of Phil taking down a powered woman with a meal-replacement bar had to be an exaggeration, but it was an amusing one nevertheless.

The night ended fairly early, so that Phil could get his beauty sleep, Skye joked. And Maria studied him, shook her head, and said he was a lost cause. Phil just rolled his eyes at their antics.

May waited to be the last to leave and paused on her way out.

Phil, who was waiting by the door like a good host, cocked his head and asked, “Are you alright?”

May smiled faintly and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s okay to be nervous. I certainly am,” Phil said.

“I’m not nervous, really,” May began, “I just don’t know if this is the right thing.”

“Oh.”

May hurried to explain, “It’s not that I don’t love you and don’t want to raise Kaia with you; it’s the leaving you in about five years part that has me worried.”

The distantly concerned mask Phil had donned melted into relief. “Oh.”

“I still can’t imagine living the rest of my life without seeing my mother and Weiyin, and her family again, but leaving you and our children seems so wrong too.”

"Oh." Phil cautiously held open his arms and May stepped into his embrace.

Phil stroked her hair and said, “I understand. I do. You don’t have to make any decisions about this now. Like you said, we have about five years.”

May hummed in response and luxuriated in his embrace.

After a hundred heartbeats (or near enough) May shifted and Phil released her. She couldn’t meet his eye when she bid him good night –- her hormones were just too intense.

* * *

The morning of the wedding was like most mornings. May emptied her bladder, washed, and ate. Then she waited. She did some mild stretches and fussed with the boxes of baby things for the millionth time. Then she waited.

It wasn’t until two hours before the noontime wedding did Skye arrive to “help her get ready.” May was going to wear a simple blood red dress with a white bow and her hair down, so she didn’t really need all that much help, but she was grateful for Skye’s distracting presence.

Time didn’t exactly fly by, but it did pass and eventually Skye declared her ready. They set off for the observation deck.

Skye shooed her to the restroom beside the observation room so that Phil wouldn’t see her in her wedding dress until it was time. May emptied her bladder again and Skye helped her smooth out her hair until Jemma knocked on the door and said everyone was ready.

Skye straightened May’s bow once more and Jemma led them to the open doors. She gestured they should wait one minute before dashing into the large room.

Instrumental music with a strong marching rhythm began to play. Skye indicated with her chin it was time for May to enter.

May looked around as she slowly proceeded in time with the music. Jemma, Fitz, and Natasha had set up a few rows of chairs behind two large vases of cut flowers –- red and white in honor of both cultures' wedding colors. The chairs themselves were full of almost everyone May knew on the helicarrier -– including Peggy! – and some she didn’t. They all turned to look at her.

Phil and Clint stood beside Maria in dark, formal suits with blood red ties. Maria was wearing her flight suit and a bright grin.

May glanced back at Skye in her dark flowing dress with a blood red bow. Skye smiled encouragingly and May continued.

May floated past the three rows of guests -- but it felt more like a thousand meters -– to the awaiting trio. Phil grabbed her hands and gave them an encouraging squeeze.

May grinned back.

Maria began, “We are gathered here today to witness the legal binding of Phillip James Coulson and May Qiaolian Mai.”

Triplett whooped and applauded until Maria glared at him.

Maria read out the marriage contract –- full of incomprehensible terms and if-then statements for every scenario under the sun. May stopped listening after the second forthwith.

Phil seemed equally mystified by the dense language and winked at May. May smiled back and they spent the next few minutes staring into each other’s eyes.

“Phillip!” Maria snapped.

Phil tore his eyes from May and looked at Maria.

“Are you with us now?”

Phil nodded and the crowd laughed.

“Good. Sign here.” She handed him the document and a pen.

He signed the bottom and passed the pen to May.

“May?”

She nodded and carefully signed her sky-person name.

“Great,” Maria turned to Phil. “ Now repeat after me: I, Phillip J. Coulson…”

“I, Phillip J. Coulson.”

“…take May Qiaolian Mai to be my lawfully wedded wife…”

“…take May Qiaolian Mai to be my lawfully wedded wife…”

“…to have and to hold, from this day forward…”

“…to have and to hold, from this day forward…”

May could see tears begin to well up in Phil’s eyes.

“…for better or for worse…”

“…for better or for worse…”

“… in sickness and in health…”

Phil began to cry and thickly forced out, “… in sickness and…”

Then he began to laugh at himself. May squeezed his hand and smiled in encouragement.

Phil beamed back, “I’m just so happy.”

He pulled himself together and turned back to Maria.

“… in sickness and in health…” she said again.

He repeated, “… in sickness and in health…”

“…to love and to cherish…”

“…to love and to cherish…”

“…for as long as we both shall choose.”

His eyes were wet but he managed to say, “…for as long as we both shall choose.”

Maria turned to May, “Repeat after me: I, May Qiaolian Mai …”

“I, May Qiaolian Mai.”

“…take Phillip J. Coulson to be my lawfully wedded husband…”

“…take Phillip J. Coulson to be my lawfully wedded husband…”

“…to have and to hold, from this day forward…”

“…for better or for worse…”

“… in sickness and in health…”

“…to love and to cherish…”

“…for as long as we both shall choose.”

Maria smiled at them and said, “With the power vested in me by the _Pericles_ helicarrier command staff, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The crowd clapped and Triplett whooped as they kissed as husband and wife. This time Maria didn’t hush him.


	71. Chapter 71

After the wedding Skye chivied the crowd out of the observation room and down to the gardens.

There, rows of tables were laid with munchies between the raised beds.

May grabbed several cheesy, crunchy rice balls before “making the rounds” with Phil. The balls were as delicious as she remembered them and everyone was there to wish them well.

Jemma and her partner Fitz were the first ones to congratulate them. Jemma headed straight for them and handed May a plate fully laden with vegetables and a bit of hummus.

“These are the best veggies for the third trimester,” Jemma began.

Fitz interrupted, “Congratulations Phil, May; it was a lovely ceremony and an air-tight contract!”

The two scientists glared at each other.

“Of course, congratulations you two. I really like your dress May. Those really are the best snacks for a woman in this stage of her pregnancy.”

Phil and May shared an amused look as Jemma and Fitz wandered off bickering.

A man with short brown hair and scruffy facial hair, who May had seen around occasionally -– especially at the beginning when she was guarded -– came and wished them the best. He shook May’s hand and his was cold from the bottle of beer he’d been drinking. Then he gave Phil a hug.

As he left Phil turned and said, “That’s Lance Hunter. We were agents together.”

“Ah!” May had heard the name and seen the face but had never been able to put the two together.

Isabelle and Victoria, then an Agent Weaver, then Felix Blake made their congratulations as well. May mostly nodded and ate Jemma’s veggies. The post-wedding party wasn’t even a quarter over and she was already getting peopled out. All the well wishing was beginning to blur together and her mouth was getting dry.

As Phil started talking to yet another former(ish) co-worker, a very tall, dark man with the name “Mack,” May snuck off to get some fizzy lemonade she knew they were serving. She was only congratulated by one unknown man on her way back with their glasses. She’d already drunken one glass at the table.

She rejoined Phil and handed him his glass. He thanked her.

“Who knew weddings involved so much talking?!” He joked.

She gave him a small, pity smile.

Mack left and Peggy took his place.

“Peggy!” May exclaimed, “You came all this way!”

Peggy, with her bright red lips and exquisite hair grinned. “Of course I had to come for your wedding. It’s a fairy tale story come to life, a Guest Mother with a love of flying falling in love with a grounded Host Father? And besides I wanted to wish you two kids happiness.”

May and Peggy talked about her flight training for a bit, while Phil snuck food off of May’s plate. Maria joined them and the flight talk continued. Phil excused himself to refill their plate and glasses.

The three women were complaining about the state of the quinjet toilet when Phil returned. His eyes bugged out a little when he caught the drift of the conversation. They all laughed at him and started talking about something else.

Eventually Skye pulled Maria away for some urgent wedding business and Peggy apologized for hogging so much of their time.

Phil told her not to be silly and May thanked Peggy again for coming all the way from her home helicarrier just to come to her wedding.

Then she made a beeline for the restroom. Of course she didn’t make it all the way there as was stopped by Fury.

“Best wishes May, may you and Phil and baby be happy together,” said Fury.

“Thank you very much Director Fury, I have to go pee.”

He looked a little perplexed by May’s abrupt dismissal, but she didn’t care. She’d had to pee since well before Maria joined her, Phil, and Peggy.

May rejoined the party much relieved and filled a plate with more finger food. She recognized most of it from Phil’s picnic in the observation room –- the cheesy rice balls, cut veggies with hummus, BLT wrap sandwiches, avocado-and-tomato wrap sandwiches, tomato-cheese-and-basil salad, and of course the fizzy lemonade. The tiny grilled cheese sandwiches, pickled vegetable and olive platter, and tower of cupcakes were not present at that first picnic but were excellent additions.

She rejoined Phil and stuck her tongue out when he grabbed one of her mini grilled cheese sandwiches.

Clint and Natasha joined them at that exact moment.

“Are we interrupting something?” Clint teased.

May stared at her plate, embarrassed to be caught acting so childishly.

“Of course you’re interrupting us, Clint. It is our wedding day after all!” Phil said.

Natasha laughed. She was soon joined by Phil and even Clint. May smiled.

“Congratulations,” Natasha said to May, “That’s a lovely dress. Is there some kind of symbolism behind it?”

“Yes. Red is my people’s traditional wedding color. It symbolizes fertility.”

“Ah.”

“I don’t think you need a dress color to indicate that!” said Clint, eyeing her pronounced stomach.

Natasha lightly slapped him. May just rolled her eyes.

After they left, a young woman congratulated them and introduced herself as Elena Rodriguez, Mack’s plus one.

Then Skye dragged over Trip to make their congratulations. Frankly, May couldn’t remember a word of what they said, even during the conversation.

Mike Peterson, Joey Gutierrez, Robbie Reyes, and a handful of other people May didn’t know congratulated them and May got her fourth little plate of food.

After what felt like ages, everyone had had their chance to talk to the happy couple and Maria rang a triangle-shaped chime. The crowd quieted.

“It’s now time to cut the cake.”

May selected a cupcake from the tower -– chocolate of course -– and placed it on a plate in front of Phil. Phil picked up a massive knife and ceremonially they cut the cupcake in half together.

Phil put the knife down, but not before wiping off some of the frosting with his finger.

May smiled.

They each picked up half of the cupcake and offered it to each other. Skye said it was to symbolize a commitment to take care of the other person before oneself, May thought it was just so that the crowd could laugh at their attempts to feed each other without making a mess.

Awkwardness aside, the cake was tasty and the frosting was tastier. Their friends cheered. Phil and May took their cupcake and moved away from the tower -– so they wouldn’t be trampled in the mad rush to grab cupcakes.

May finished her half-cupcake the normal way and smiled at Phil. She hadn’t noticed, but his cufflinks were little Captain America shields.

Then, finally, May and Phil could leave.

Hand-in-hand, they walked back to Phil’s, no _their_ , apartment.

Covertly during the reception, May’s stuff had been moved, for the third time in less than six months. And in addition to the boxes of hers and the baby’s stuff, there was a pile of wrapped gifts.

Phil looked at the pile of gifts and May’s stuff and started crying. May joined him.

Who would have guessed nine months ago they would be here, now, moving in together, starting a life as a real couple instead of an impersonally selected optimal genetically matched Host Father and Guest Mother?


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the insane delay. Between RL and anxiety/writer's block this chapter took FOR EVAR!

After the exhausting wedding reception and the emotional return to _their_ apartment, May had a nap. She wasn’t as tired as she had been early during her pregnancy but she had had a big day.

When she awoke, Phil had prepared a light dinner for them. Compared to the wedding feast it was simple, but May found the pasta mixed with tomato bits and small spinach leaves delicious and made sure to tell Phil so. As expected, he turned a delightful pink color.

After dinner, May helped wash the dishes and then they began the laborious process of unpacking. Phil had already moved the boxes to right outside May and the baby’s room during her nap.

May put her clothes away while Phil unpacked the baby stuff. Jemma and Fitz had gifted them a remarkable changing table/dresser. It had drawers for clothes and shelves for diapers, even a special slot for diaper wipes.

In the course of several hours they made good headway. Phil had gotten all of the baby stuff put away -– May would need to move some things around later, who put soft toys next to diapers that was just asking for trouble! -– and May had sorted various piles of kitchen stuff to store, art to hang up, and random oddments to discuss with Phil. Putting away her clothes had been her first item of business, as it was the easiest.

After May’s third yawn in a row, they called it a night.

* * *

Over the next few days they sifted through May’s belongings, opened gifts, and found room or a new home for everything. They also got to know each other better.

May learned not to talk to Phil before he had his first cup of coffee, or two. He was grumpy and nonsensical until he’d woken up properly.

She taught him to ask before touching her. Yes, she’d certainly welcome a back rub to help the muscle tightness, but she needed some warning. Or for example, she’d inadvertently elbow him in the kidneys and stomp on the arch of his foot.

And together they learned to compromise on the ‘proper’ way to do the dishes and put them away. May still thought he didn’t wash the silverware thoroughly enough -– that’s what they actually put in their mouths!

For the first few days Phil stayed home but May was happy when he returned to work. She was used to having time to herself. Of course that didn’t mean she didn’t hang out with Skye and Maria or she didn’t drop by Phil’s office with lunch on occasion. It just meant that she enjoyed doing her stretches without an audience and that she liked napping alone in their silent apartment.

She liked napping in Phil’s office too. It was almost as if with each week, with each kilo she gained, daily activities grew harder and harder and the more she needed to sleep but also the less she could sleep during the night. Jemma said this was perfectly normal and to try to nap as often as her body wanted. May tried to listen to her body, but she hated it when she fell asleep during one of Phil’s work stories.

When May brought him lunch -– he’d taught her how to make grilled cheese sandwiches and she enjoyed experimenting with the theme –- Phil liked to entertain her with stories about the missions for which he was completing paperwork.

Sometimes he was filling out requisition forms and would make up stories such as how 5 pounds of peanut butter and 50 arrows could be used together to take down a super-powered squirrel.

Other times he’d be filling out after-action Lessons Learned paperwork and would regale her with stories of abject failures, mistakes, and near misses. He’d change the names of the agents involved to protect the guilty but May was pretty sure Natasha and Clint featured heavily.

Sometimes she wondered if Phil regretted leaving the field, he certainly missed it, but she knew that kind of thinking wasn’t good for Kaia.

Even when he wasn’t telling her tales, she enjoyed the sounds of his fingers flying over his keyboard. It was calming.

* * *

May’s 30-week check-up went well. Kaia was 20 percentile for almost every measurement, which made sense given May’s small stature. Otherwise she was healthy and growing well. Phil and May got to listen to her heart, which wasn’t quite as hummingbird fast as the last full check-up, but it was still music to their ears.

May was also doing well, her swollen ankles and aching hips notwithstanding. According to Jemma, that was normal for this stage of pregnancy: The ligaments in her hips were loosening to widen her birth canal.

After the check-up, May was feeling antsy. She had this need to walk, to do something other than nap or nest. She kept walking past the turnoff to go to Phil’s, no their, apartment.

May swung by Maria’s room. She wasn’t there; she must be at work.

May went to Skye’s apartment. It was also empty.

She went to the observation deck, but watching the grey-green forests rush beneath her didn’t help. It wasn’t calming.

She pushed herself upright, feeling like a lumbering elephant or a beached whale from the television.

She wanted to scream, or throw things, or just feel like herself again.

She sighed. It would be two months before Kaia came, and even then May wasn’t guaranteed to feel like herself, not with a helpless infant to care for. And she certainly could throw a fit, but that would definitely attract attention she didn’t want right now.

She waddled home still grumpy.

She shut the apartment door more firmly than necessary, which helped a little bit, and she proceeded to the kitchen. Maybe eating something would help.

As she was searching for the last of the double chocolate cookies she knew Phil had hidden somewhere, she came across the small bag of decaffeinated coffee beans. May had been curious about the beverage that Phil could not live without, so he got her some decaf, which would be better for the baby. Sadly the brew didn’t taste nearly as good as it smelled and was far too bitter.

As May stared at the bag, she got an idea. Phil couldn’t live without his coffee...

Phil could not live without coffee.

Perhaps switching out his coffee for decaf would put him out of sorts and this subtle revenge on the father of her child would make her feel better.

The more she thought about it, the better it seemed.

For five minutes while she emptied Phil’s coffee beans into a bowl and refilled the bag with decaf beans she actually smiled. Then she transferred Phil’s beans into the decaf bag and shoved it to the back of the cabinet where she had found it.

Now she just had to wait.

Her mischief made her feel so good, so normal, she settled for an apple and peanut butter for snack instead of the still-hidden double chocolate cookies.

* * *

The next morning started out normally. May woke to the whir of the coffee grinder. Of course Phil could get pre-ground and even pre-brewed coffee, but he said it was tastier this way, and he _was_ old fashioned.

By the time she’d dressed and emptied her bladder for the millionth time, the coffee was brewing and Phil was fixing omelets. She knew hers would be loaded with leafy greens -– yay folic acid, not -– but as long as Phil balanced it with some bacon all would be forgiven.

She waddled to the toaster to do her small part in helping to prepare breakfast.

When their toast was finished, May poured herself a glass of orange juice and grabbed the apricot jam. Phil preferred his toast dry but May liked the contrast of sweet jam and eggs.

She’d been sitting for less than a minute when Phil slid her plate in front of her, and yes thankfully her omelet did have some bacon pieces in it. A few minutes later, he sat down beside her.

May surreptitiously watched him, trying to see if he noticed anything off about his coffee.

He didn’t. He had his customary second cup while May washed the dishes.

His first cup was always black and sweet, the better to get him going first thing in the morning, his second was always milky and only lightly sweetened, the better to savor while the first was kicking in.

After he finished his second cup and handed it to May to rinse, he said goodbye to Kaia and May –- the first with a kiss to May’s ever growing stomach and the second with a kiss to May’s cheek.

May was a little disappointed by the lack of reaction to her prank, but she resolved to visit Phil for lunch to see if there were any signs then.

After some stretching and a nice nap May prepared lunch. She wasn’t in the mood for a grilled cheese sandwich so she cut some veggies, pulled out a bowl of hummus Phil has made earlier, and fixed some peanut butter banana sandwiches.

When she arrived, Phil did look more tired than normal and she had to move two coffee cups to lay out the veggies and dip.

She gave him a look. He was trying to cut down to four cups a day: two with breakfast, one for the 10 o’clock slump, and one in the early afternoon to get him through the rest of the day.

“I know, I know,” he said. “I’ve just been dragging all morning.”

May had a half-minute’s indecision: should she let the prank go on for longer or let him know?

She started laughing. Phil looked puzzled, which was even funnier.

In between hiccups of laughter she said, “I… I switched out… I switched your… your coffee… for decaf!”

“Huh?” He asked uncomprehending.

May tried to control herself and forced out, “I switched your coffee for decaf.”

“Huh?”

“That’s why you’ve been tired. I switched out your coffee yesterday!”

“Oh… I’m glad I’m not coming down with something.”

“Nope,” May said, and chuckled a bit more.

Phil shook his head with a small smile on his face and grabbed a peanut butter banana sandwich.


	73. Chapter 73

May told Maria and Skye all about pranking Phil during their next “Girls’ Night In.”

This time they met at Skye’s small but lovingly-decorated apartment for nachos and margaritas. May didn’t understand what was so special about the lime-flavored icy drink, but then again hers didn’t have any alcohol in it so perhaps that was the important part.

However, she understood perfectly the attraction the cheesy chips with beans, tomatoes, and peppers held. They were amazing! Salty and cheesy -– it was hard to go wrong with cheese -– with a contrast of the natural sweetness of the tomatoes, bite of the peppers, and smooth blandness of the beans.

Each woman seemed to have her favorite combination -– Maria favored the pepper-heavy bites while Skye liked chips with a lot of beans and May preferred the tomato-rich ones -– and a friendly fight broke out between May and Skye over a cheese-covered chip Skye claimed was hers.

Eventually May admitted defeat and apologized for ‘stealing’ Skye’s chip. They all laughed.

May segued, “So Maria, you know that prank we did?”

Maria nodded, her mouth full.

"I did another one.”

Maria swallowed her mouthful with a pained look. May felt her face warm, remembering her first poor attempt at pranking Maria.

“It’s okay, Phil didn’t mind too much, I think,” May said hurriedly.

“Well?” prompted Skye after a moment of silence.

“I was tired and grumpy and out of sorts,” she began.

They nodded, understanding yet not fully understanding the taxing job of growing a baby.

“So I swapped out Phil’s coffee for decaf.”

Skye gasped. “You didn’t!”

May nodded, suddenly concerned that this prank had backfired too but Phil was just too kind to tell her just how big of a mistake she had made.

Skye began howling with laughter, spewing bits of chip everywhere.

May’s concern ebbed as quickly as it arrived.

Maria started chuckling too.

In between fits of laughter Skye forced out, “You took A.C.’s caffeine? Gods and ancestors!”

May nodded.

“How long did it take him to figure out?” Maria asked.

“I told him at lunch.”

They all laughed some more and tried to guess how long it would have taken Phil to figure out on his own.

The laughter dwindled naturally and they returned to eating their nachos.

“How are you feeling now; still out of sorts?” asked Skye.

May shrugged and grabbed another chip, hoping to dodge the question. She was feeling better than she had that day, but still not really herself.

Her friends stared at her while she chewed. Apparently they wouldn’t let her get away with that non-answer.

She took a sip of her margarita to clear her throat and answered, “I’m not as out of sorts as that day I pranked Phil, but between this growing bulge, my ankles, and everything… my skin doesn’t fit right anymore.”

After a moment Maria asked, “Is there anything we can do to help?”

May took a moment to think. “No, I don’t think so. Earlier, when this whole place felt strange, having friends helped. Now it’s myself that feels strange and I don’t think you can do anything to fix that.”

Maria nodded.

Skye leaned over and gave May a big hug.

May hugged her back. Having friends certainly didn’t _hurt._

Before she knew it, the nachos were gone and the conversation had lulled to a comfortable silence.

May got up to use Skye’s bathroom and when she returned Maria was gone and Skye was cleaning up. _I guess the party is over_.

“Thank you for having me over,” May said.

“Of course, _any_ time,” replied Skye earnestly while coming in for a goodbye hug.

When May returned to her and Phil’s apartment –- she got a thrill every time she thought of his place as theirs –- she took a nap.

After she awoke she started to sort through Kaia’s things, making sure they had everything she would need and all of it was in the right place. She’d done this regularly over the last few weeks and would rarely change the organization scheme much, but it was something she could do that gave her a small sense of control over her future.

She heard a knock while she was in the midst of sorting onesies by size and color. She set them down and levered herself up. She probably should stop sitting on the floor, it was getting quite difficult to get up.

As she waddled to the door as fast as she could, she wondered who it might be.

It was Jemma.

As soon as May saw her, she knew one of her friends had tattled on her.

“Maria?” May asked.

Jemma blushed at the bald-faced call-out and then shrugged, saying “Skye.”

May nodded and held open the door in soundless invitation. Then she headed to the kitchen to whip up some hot cocoa. Cocoa was a magical elixir that could heal almost anything -– according to Phil’s mother -– and would certainly make this awkward conversation a little less painful.

Jemma followed behind her and waited quietly but restlessly while she heated and mixed their drinks.

In her peripheral vision May saw Jemma tug at and then straighten her shirtsleeves countless times in the five minutes it took her to make the cocoa.

As soon as May sat, mug in hand, Jemma began, her calm voice not betraying her restlessness, “Skye said you’ve been feeling like a stranger in your own skin?”

May nodded.

Jemma took a sip of cocoa, pretending to be calm, “So, how long has this been happening?”

“It started right after my 30-week check-up.”

Jemma exhaled a huge sigh of relief.

May raised her eyebrow questioningly.

“Oh yeah,” Jemma blushed again, “I’m just glad that I’m not an utter failure…”

May waited for her to continue.

“If this had started before your check-up and you didn’t tell me, that would make me a failure because it’s my job to know about these kind of things so I can help and tell you that it’s perfectly normal...”

Jemma continued to babble, “Even Before, women had these kinds of feelings while pregnant, and that’s _without_ any other major upheavals.”

“So anyways, it’s perfectly normal to feel like your body isn’t your body any more or that everything is different or out of your control.”

May nodded. Though being told that her feelings were normal wasn’t very helpful.

As if Jemma read her mind, she grabbed her hand and continued, “I know that doesn’t really help, but here’s something that might: a regular routine. Something like volunteering in the gardens, or something, will at the very least distract you and give you something productive to do other that sort through diapers for the thousandth time, and it might even help you feel more like yourself.”

May nodded again.

“You should take it slowly and listen to your body, but you’ve kept up with your stretches so I don’t anticipate any problems from gardening. On the other hand, if these feeling of strangeness get worse or change into thoughts of hurting yourself or someone else -– other than depriving Coulson of his caffeine, which really he should not be _that_ dependent -– call me, please.”

May nodded solemnly and squeezed Jemma’s hand.

Jemma smiled, a bright, heart-lightening smile.

They finished their cocoa while talking of far less serious things. Jemma asked about the baby’s movements and when May grew tired of talking about herself, she asked Jemma about Fitz and their latest invention.

Of course May understood less than a third of what she said, but Jemma’s excitement and joy was practically contagious.


	74. Chapter 74

It turned out May enjoyed volunteering at the gardens. It was calming to pick the produce. Pulling undesired or out-of-place plants, which the Sky-people called weeds, was cathartic though not the easiest on her back. It was nice to know more about where her food came from in this strange place. 

Also, it made her feel good in a hard to describe way to have someplace to get ready for when Phil was getting ready for work, to have someplace to go when he left. She’d always been independent but sitting around alone was so dull. And Jemma was right, having a routine helped as well.

May would go to the garden and assist Elena and Joey. Joey was a fountain of knowledge and whenever he worked near May, she’d learn so much about plants and other things. When he saw how interested she was in what he had to teach, he began teaching her two different language -– the long dead tongue Latin and his mother tongue Español.

According to Joey, Latin was the language of plants and he started with the Latin names for everything around them. But he didn’t stop there. He introduced her to the rest of the language, and since Latin was so similar to Español, at least according to him, he began to teach her that too.

Learning these languages was both harder and easier than learning the helicarrier’s main language, English, because it wasn’t critical. Elena also spoke Español, so sometimes Joey and Elena would chat in it, but learning wasn’t vital for May’s future. But since it wasn’t so important May could have fun with it. One shift they taught her every dirty or bad word they knew –- in all three languages -– and May taught them a few nasty phrases in her tongue in return.

May also learned how to say “I love you” in Español and surprised Phil with it later that afternoon.

After helping for a few hours, May would return home, shower and maybe take a nap. Then she’d have lunch with Phil. In the afternoons she’d either read in Phil’s office or hang out with Maria or Skye, if they were off duty. Phil would always make a delicious dinner, usually with some of the fresh produce May had picked hours earlier.

Of course Phil was very supportive of her volunteering in the gardens, and not just because she could bring home some extra-fresh produce at the end of the morning. He helped with the morning dishes even though he cooked breakfast and would always ask about her day.

* * *

One afternoon, after a nice lunch in Phil’s office of a spinach and bean salad Phil had made the night before and peanut butter and banana sandwiches that she’d made, May read through a helicarrier flight manual. She knew she’d never be allowed to actually fly the thing but it didn’t anyone hurt to learn. She began to shift in her chair.

The chair, her comfy chair, was as comfortable as man or God could make, but May might have overdone it with the weeding that morning. She was nearly full-term and not nearly as flexible as she’d been even a month earlier.

Phil looked up from his work, “Are you okay?”

May nodded.

Phil looked at her unblinkingly.

_He knew her too well._ “My back hurts,” she admitted.

Phil stood up and walked over, motioning that she should stand up too. She marked her place in the manual and levered herself up. Even with the back support the chair provided, standing upright was an effort.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked, his voice a mixture of loving concern and self-conscious humor.

May pointed to her lower back.

He lifted up her shirt and began applying pressure with his thumbs, rubbing away the pain and tension.

May moaned in appreciation.

Phil only increased his efforts.

His large, warm hands brought forth the perfect mix of pressure and release, but fighting against the force was hard on her knees.

“Let’s move,” she grunted in between waves of pleasure/pain.

Phil paused his magical hands for long enough that May could waddle a few steps and rest her arms against the wall. Then he continued.

Phil thoroughly and diligently massaged away her backache until nothing was left except a warm buzz and a sense of peace.

She sighed and shooed him away when she was a hairsbreadth from falling asleep where she stood. He watched her waddle back to her chair not offering assistance, but standing by should she ask for help. _She’d sure trained him well._

She melted into her chair and asked for her footstool.

He rolled it over to her.

She put her feet up and smiled sleepily in thanks.

His bright smile in return was almost blinding.

May closed her eyes and as she was nodding off she thought that while she couldn’t wait to meet Kaia –- and be able to see her toes again -– it was pretty good right now too.


	75. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the fluffy conclusion three years in the making.

May took a deep, cleansing breath and embraced the thrum of the engine beneath her and the faint whistling of the wind enveloping the quinjet. It was so peaceful. The sky was cloudless and the very pale blue that only existed in winter.

She dearly loved Kaia, Steven, and of course Phil, but she needed some alone time too. Since Steven discovered walking -– and _babbling_  -– he scrambled everyday to keep up with his older sister, making their apartment sometimes seem too small, too noisy, too confining. On occasion she pondered her own sanity for trying for a third.

_Oh well, it was too late now._ She rubbed her still-flat stomach with a small smile.

May glanced back to the hold to check on the three scientists she was ferrying to the _Argus_. They were gluttonously glazing out the windows at the snow-covered forest below. _Good._ Luckily, Maria had been scheduled for this milk run, but was willing to swap and look after her niece and nephew instead.

May checked the altimeter and fuel gauge before engaging the autopilot. It was soothing, watching the snow-strewn world beneath her. But it made her a touch homesick too. It had been six years, almost, since she’d last touched snow. _Or risked having her fingers and toes frozen off_ , she reminded herself.

In all that time, she’d only returned to the ground once.

Kaia had been almost eight months old and crawling around, and Maria had finally convinced Fury that May would most definitely return to her daughter.

Skye had used some satellites and her computers to track the movement of May’s tribe and provided her the location of three possible fall settlements, and promised to make sure Kaia was put down for her nap on time.

Trip flew her -– another bit of Skye’s finagling, obviously –- and though she normally enjoyed his good-natured chatter, she hadn’t been in the mood.

The first site was cold -– no fire nor body signatures on the fly-over thermal scan.

The second site had more than forty warm bodies, larger than her clan had been, but May made Trip land two kilometers away so she could check it out, just in case.

Much to her surprise, May spotted Weiyin on the outskirts of village.

Weiyin was more care-worn than May remembered, almost gaunt, and had a toddler on her hip. The little boy must have been a little over a year old.

May strode loudly -– or at least no longer walked ‘ninja soft’ -– toward her old friend. The deliberate snapping of a twig underfoot finally drew Weiyin’s attention to her. She gasped and clutched her son in fear.

“Calm, calm, be calm. It is I, Qiaolian. I am returned for the day,” May’s own language lay thick on her tongue and she had resolved then and there to teach it to her children so it wouldn’t be lost.

Weiyin had mimed waving incense, a gesture to appease the Ancestors.

“I’m not dead!” May said, adding, “I was… stolen.”

Weiyin examined her suspiciously.

“Qiaolian? Are you truly real?”

May pulled out her pocket knife and slit her thumb, a red bead of blood pooling at the cut. She forgot that the ever-sharp metal blade would be as foreign as her flight suit and even the quinjet itself, “See, I’m real.”

Weiyin held her restless son firmly, but approached. May held her arms out wide, evincing her inoffensiveness.

Holding out her hand, Weiyin silently asked for the knife. May handed it over. Weiyin inspected it closely, marveling at its design. May smiled at the boy who promptly became shy and ducked his head onto his mother’s shoulder. He glanced back up and May, who made a funny face at him. He hid again.

Weiyin turned her attention back to May, “You’re different. Softer.”

May smiled, “I have a daughter. Kăi-a. She’s younger than this fine fellow, but she’s crawling already, and calls me mama.”

Weiyin grinned at the complement to her child, as any mother would, and prompted, “Say hello, Qiao-yǒng.”

May’s eye’s moistened from the honor of having a little boy named after her, and she yearned to have been there for her friend during her pregnancy. During _their_ pregnancies.

The little boy murmured something approaching nǐ hǎo, and May replied with her own greeting.

“You were stolen by a clan with god-like tools, have a baby girl, and say you have returned for a day. Why? What happened?”

“It’s a long story…” Weiyin started to interrupt, but May continued unchecked, “I’ll tell you later, but I’d like to see my mother first.”

Weiyin stilled. May instantaneously knew what that meant, and tears sprang to her eyes unbidden.

Weiyin spoke the unspeakable, “I’m sorry. She didn’t live much longer after you disappeared. She went on a few trading missions early that spring, when she still hoped you’d be found, but by summer she’d given up on living and just faded away.”

May’s knees turned to mousse.

“My uncle?”

“Gone as well.”

May sat on the ground, focusing on the sensation of small rocks and twigs digging into her palms to keep from crying. She bit her lip.

“The clan is larger now?”

Weiyin looked a little perplexed at her knowledge but nodded, “Last winter was rough, and we joined the Sambar clan.”

“And your husband?”

“He is well.”

“Good, good,” May nodded, mind dizzy from all the news.

Weiyin squatted beside her, freeing her restless toddler to run around. May shared the gist of what had happened to her in the past almost-two years, grateful for Qiao-yǒng’s interruptions to show off a pretty pebble or a nice nut.

Completely drained after several hours of talking, May bid her friend goodbye, and left her the knife, as a memento.

May didn’t remember the walk back to the quinjet, or the flight home either. But she vividly remembered Phil, Skye, and Kaia waiting for her on the flight deck, the desperate group hug, tearful confessions, and Phil’s frantic yet tender lovemaking later that night.

After that night, Jemma had had to look into pregnancy _prevention_ techniques, or ‘a novel and interesting problem’, as she called it.

An insistent beeping pulled May from her reverie. It was almost time to dock with the _Argus_ ; she could recall that night on the return trip.

_And_ she had to pee again. This was going to be her last pregnancy. Three babies were enough. But she was open to the whole egg-harvesting thing; Skye had mentioned once, when she was drunk during one of her girl's nights, that she and Trip wanted a child of their own.

May went through the intricate docking procedure, released the hatch, and then helped the scientists disembark.

Someone would be dropping off some medical supplies to make her return trip more worthwhile, but it wasn’t much more than an excuse.

Peggy would return the scientists in about a week, after whatever it was they were doing on the _Argus_ , and Phil was already planning a large welcome dinner.

While she was on the _Iliad_ , Peggy would also test Piper, another Guest Mother who’d taken a similar interest in flying -– but not her Host Father -– who May and Maria had been training on the flight simulator.

After the boxes were delivered, May took off, eager to see Phil and her kids again after her break. She soaked in the peace and engine-thrum and flew, her heart full and soul content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated :) 
> 
> If you've bookmarked or subscribed please take that extra two minutes to leave me a review and tell me your favorite part, or at least that you didn't give up in disappointment or disgust! 
> 
> Even if you read this fic years from now, if you liked it, make my day and let me know.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments or constructive criticism are always welcome.


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